Post by StarShine on Dec 17, 2009 0:21:10 GMT -5
The Forgotten Legends
Before all else came the trees, seeds carried by a breeze from unknown lands. Following these, came the animals, those that ate the various plants and they that ate the plant eaters. From them came the first Strangeling, who chose one of the natural creatures for a mate - from this pairing came the race of Shifters.
The Shifters outlived their animal relatives, though each of them felt a certain need to be around fellow creatures and all shared at least some distant relation to that first Strangeling. Several who came from creatures that were more solitary in nature were fortunate in their Shifter parentage, as they had a way to understand the strange desire for at least some company, however minimal.
Through the years, the colony of Shifters grew and in growing found that they were too large to live as they had been. The gatherers had to wander farther and farther to find food for everyone, their lands having to extend beyond the reach of what they were capable of maintaining.
Finally, it was decided that it would be best to split into smaller groups, clans that could still rely on one another for aid yet still had claim to their own lands and food. One clan and one alone would hold claim to these, the old lands, and would help to guide the others around them.
Only the elite of their group would be allowed to stay. Only the alphas of the alphas, the strongest guards, the fastest scavengers, would be allowed to remain in these cherished first lands as a part of the oldest and strongest clan.
For weeks they battled, the alphas being first to challenge one another, those that had emerged as the strongest in their colony over the years. The winners were given reign over all other competitions, ensuring that none were killed and no damage came of home or food stored away for winter.
In these events, alliances were created, those who favored one or the other during the battles. Those that lost and were to leave found many of their friends following them as a part of their clan already, out of loyalty alone. Those that proved their ability had their choice of underlings, for they were indeed the strongest and most capable of leaders.
After this parting of ways, a number of clans were formed. Some say it was merely four, others say as many as seven. It is agreed upon by all that it had already been decided that there would not be only two main clans in the lands, as that would likely lead to competition instead of cooperation as was intended.
And so the years passed, each clan growing and eventually having a few break off of them to start their own legacy, to claim their own rights to land and family.
These events were, however, rare, as it was not a common thing for cubs to be born among the Shifters. While Shifters remain fertile for the duration of their lives, they are only in season once every six years, though they are still known to mate for pleasure. Even then, when the season of mating has arrived for their kind, the chances of conceiving are on average 30%-40%; there are several theories as to why this is, but none know for sure.
So it was that they came to be, with a rare Strangeling to be seen once in an odd while to lead the strongest and oldest of the clans and oversee the entire race. So it was they lived upon their lands and remained steady in numbers, never growing too large or finding their numbers endangered. So it was that there was peace amid the trees and lakes of Aithriocht.
Then came the humans.
Upon first meeting, the Shifters attempted peace with the new neighbors, agreeing that it would be best to simply leave them be as their ways were so vastly different. They had thought, at first, that they were but more Shifters who preferred the bald, tall forms to their own natural ones; this was quickly found not to be the case.
As the humans leveled land, built their strange houses and moved stones to create roads, the Shifters remained in their own lands, living as they always had. As the humans cut trees for fires every night, the Shifters remained, gathering only what was already dead and using the flames for warmth and no more.
Yet as the humans brought their animals, the shifters emerged once again, drawn by the sounds of their kindred creatures. They were horrified to see the contraptions the humans used to force the beasts to submit; ropes tied to great, wild dogs; strange nets over a horse's face that pulled at their mouths; large, hollow logs strapped to the hide of a grazing beast as docile as the mountains.
While they ached to see their kin treated in ways they could not understand, it was quickly agreed upon that any who were freed from those lands would be impaired from their imprisonment, and merely replaced by other unfortunate creatures. There was something different about these beasts they saw; something vital that even the lowest ranked Shifter had seemed to be missing from these creatures.
It was more than a lack of magic in their blood, for their animal kindred in the trees also had this that these new beasts seemed to be without. Beyond them to explain, they knew that this piece of the wild that connected all things to the Earth had been banished from them, making them deaf to the mountains, the land, the wind and trees.
Still, some could not help but to cross lands in order to speak to these that the humans had brought. They were so focused upon the strange beasts that they did not note the human's discomfort whenever a gryphon would walk down the street, or a horse with dragonfly's wings and eyes would stop to speak to an ox.
The humans began talking, whenever these bold ones would cross lands, whispers of unnatural beings and dark magics. They were running out of room, as quickly as they birthed their young, and started to wish that these demon beasts would not come near and taint their cubs.
Never had it been heard that a Shifter utter a single word - no, it was told by the grandparents that they spoke in the minds, that they forced their way into the inner-most private areas of a human and there their words were heard. None were willing to open their minds to these beasts, they that were so fantastic and strange, that dripped magic and myth. They must be stopped, conquered, before the humans themselves were conquered, for surely they could not let such a thing come to pass.
And so it was, that the riot began. First with whispers, then shouts. Eventually, whenever a Shifter's eyes were seen gleaming from the edge of their lands, a cry would go out and the visitor would be found racing through the woods for their life.
As the human's lands expanded, this became more and more frequent. Finally, there was but one small piece of land separating the two species, a mere 40 acres wide that was named Trá. It was decided that more space was needed, that the demon pests which called themselves Shifters must be done away with.
And so the war began.
It was not hard to find the lands of the clans. The very plants in these areas had soaked up residual magic, giving them a new life, new abilities to grow in ways that would not normally be possible in nature. Many trees grew with their branches knotted for large nests, several shrubs and ferns found themselves twisted in intricate designs, the flowers and berries were all impossible colors and sprouted throughout the year.
There were a few small raids on some of the outermost clans, an attempt to force them to flee or submit. Finally, they found the old lands, that which was named Tórramh where the greatest of the clans lived and thrived. Here, at the heart of all things, they struck true, capturing and killing all they came across, ridding themselves of these unnatural beasts, crippling their once beautiful land.
Save for a few, lucky souls, the rest of the Shifters were easy to overtake after this defeat. The lands themselves were left in tact for use by human expansion once they had taken all the unnatural beasts and put them to proper use, though this step proved to be wasted once all the Shifters had left the woodland. The magic turned sour from the dark deeds that happened, twisting the plants and creatures until that which had been the land of Shifters became known as Tuarúil, dark and dangerous woods that few dared enter.
So it came it be that the Shifters that had ruled the land for eons were no more.
The New Beginning
As a few did escape the great war, so it was that a small number of true Shifters remained. They were few, however, and did not hold the support of the first Shifters, that of animal or Strangeling kin. Eventually they, just as the war, became naught but a story told to little ones before bed.
Those that had been captured were quickly bound and forced into a life of slavery, their imprisonment secured as a nobleman bribed the local witch doctor. A spell was cast to force any that dared shift from their human forms to be weaker for it, small creatures that could easily be killed for reverting to the old Shifter ways. Another, soon after, to take the magic of a shifter and weave it into the veins of several different men, fragmented and perverted enough so that it would lay dormant unless a like magic was nearby.
From this, came the Hunters. As with all magics, however, this could not be fully controlled. They proved stronger than their hosts, breaking free of the body they had been bound to and forming a twisted likeness of their own - two full creatures, of pure shadow and magic, and a third, lesser one, that while weaker was all the more deadly for it, for each was made of an aspect of Shifters that is naturally absent.
One was made of self, of the aspect of Greed and I. Whenever it approaches, all light around it dies, all warmth to the air is chilled. It craves a true body and life and all the rights and power that are linked to one.
Another made itself from consciousness, the need to be labeled good, the fear of being dubbed bad, the perversion of all that was evil. It highlights and distorts anything near it; the leaves on plants become too green, too large, and grow a dark consciousness, lashing out to strangle anything they can reach; the light is too bright, too warm, cutting down in razor-sharp rays to cook any living thing; the shadows too deep, too cold, and are known to swallow beings whole.
The last, the weakest one, was made of what was most difficult to distort into being, and so has the least to support it. This being is that of all that is hatred, malice and bitter disposition. While this one is near the fern strangles the root of the oak, the sun turns away from the earth and the prey attacks the hunter.
These beings are not truly living and so they can never die, nor have they found the ability to pervert other magics and thus reproduce, in a way. They hold enough sense of being to call themselves the Shadow Shifters, but beyond that little is known.
And so the natural enemy of the Shifters came to be.
The true Hunters were created not long after the first ones were destroyed by these twisted magics, the spells woven far more complex than before as the witch doctor now had a better understanding of the power of Shifter magic. Still, magic will do as it pleases if not fully understood, so it is that whenever a Hunter dies the next to appear is a mystery; the spell chooses the host, not lineage.
It was into all this that the first Strangeling of the new age was born; a male, to be the new king. All such beings, Shifters, Hunters and Shadow Shifters, felt the emergence of this new power, as Shifters have felt it for eons on end. He remains a mystery, however, as he has yet to be seen by any of their kind. All that is known is that he was first felt from beyond the reach of Tuarúil and the dark magics that lay therein, waiting for the return of Shifters to bring proper life back to the wood.
Years passed, exactly one breeding season, and again, much to the shock of all, the presence of a new Strangeling was felt. This time, it came from Uasal, the nobleman district of the human Territories. A Strangeling born of humans, or of a pet to humans?
The White Queen was the one born, of a nobleman and his wife. And as all in her kind, she was born in the form of an animal - a white kitten. This secret was kept for years until one day, as she was learning to walk, a visiting nobleman startled her by dropping his cane. As soon as she shifted to her kitten form she was banished from the family, working as a servant under her father's rule.
Her presence brought a great unrest over those years as she grew. All creatures with the ability to could feel her growing stronger, could feel her in the enemy territory. Would she be tainted, an improper Strangeling, born of broken beast or corrupted human? Could she be the one to free them from their imprisonment? Where was the male they had sensed years before; did he dwell, still, beyond the woods?
An Old War
The White Queen lived quietly under the rule of her father, learning what there was to learn and waiting for the time to leave. She, as with all Strangelings, knew in her bones where her home was supposed to be, the clan she was meant to have, the magic that flowed through her. It was instinct and more than instinct, something she could consciously feel.
She would travel soon, when it was time. When the opportunity presented itself.
Finally, no longer able to stand his abomination of a daughter, the nobleman sent for a line of male slaves to come and choose her. She was always silent, always pale, and could often be seen shifting down to the small, pure white cat, or even a white yearling filly if she was outdoors. Wishing to be rid of her, he allowed that a male choose her for reproductive purposes, ensuring the slavery population hold steady. He could sell her and her new keeper within a week.
After a long moment it seemed that the line of males would all reject her as she lay at their feet, a possibility that only made things all the easier on him - a female slave that was rejected even by the male suiters offered was not fit to serve a nobleman and so would be killed.
At the last second a shifter that was hidden within the line stepped forward to pretend to claim her, previously frozen in shock at who lay before him. He had been brought from Caisleán, the innermost workings of the human territory and house the castle itself. His mother, a captured Shifter as well, spent his youth telling him of their history and of the lands they had lost in the great war.
When they had acted as if what was expected of them had occurred, the male claiming the female, and dismissed from the room they found a quiet area in which to hold a conference, the place of Rúnda where magics guarded any from seeing or hearing what was said, even through the thought-speak. It was an old magic that had not been accounted for when the Shifters were first enslaved, one that moved them to another realm entirely on a separate dimensional plain.
This was the opportunity she had waited for - it was time to make their escape.
The escape was simple enough, as the Shifter before the Queen showed himself to hold a grey tabby form when he shifted down. Moving quickly, they waited for the guard to fall asleep and slipped out the door as the morning deliveries arrived, careful to move quickly before the guard was truly awakened.
From there they ran, wishing to place as much distance as possible between themselves and the risk of capture and death.
With the tales that the tabby remembered being their guide, they headed towards the land between lands, Trá. There was an enormous stretch of beach within this area, the perfect place to find the LoreKeep that the tabby spoke of. He would be best to guide them along their journey, if they were to gather others of their kind and reclaim their home, as their instincts demanded.
Finding a pelican with bright blue feathers proved surprisingly difficult in the bright seaside light, the sea often casting shimmering blues upon wings that had none. Finally, they seemed to have found him - except that the White Queen felt something was amiss. First, the mind that touched hers was decidedly female - something she quickly noted. The Shifter before them smirked and shifted to human, something none had seen the LoreKeep do before and that was often speculated was not in his abilities. Finally, she used one of the words that is beyond any Shifter to utter - I.
Fleeing from the Shadow Shifter, the pair spent the next several weeks stalking the docks and beaches of the sea, struggling to avoid a few Hunters and keeping an eye out for the Shadow Shifter, that which was their natural enemy. One small, untouched boat tugged at the White Queen constantly as they searched for the LoreKeep, her conviction that he was hidden within the dark and filthy vessel steadily growing. Finally, a plan firmed solidly in her mind.
Charging into the open doorway that led below deck, she and the tabby knocked the entry plank aside, yowling as they saw a rather battered pelican with shimmering, lightly blue wing tips laying in the floor. Standing over him was the Shadow Shifter.
There was a battle, ending as, at the last minute, the White Queen and the tabby managed to grab hold of the LoreKeep and jump, scrambling back onto the dock and carrying him to the relative safety that was the edge of Tuarúil.
Mildly shaken, the truth of the Tabby's warnings about needing proper training fully struck home with the White Queen as they rested until the LoreKeep was again wholly sound. If any would make a proper teacher, it would be he.
They traveled as she learned, the tabby growing more and more concerned in regards to her safety and furthering the freedom of their kind. To ease his mind, at least in regards to her safety as the one that could help to free them, The White Queen appointed him as her personal guard - after they met the Old Witch.
This was no witch doctor they found as they stumbled upon the ruins of Tórramh but the strongest of the Shifter spell casters, the lead Magi. She had cast a curse upon the lands after their loss, deeming any that sought to rebuild and continue on in this area as disrespectful to all those that were lost in the great war. Any who could ignore such sacrifice would find that their clans would fall apart and die - any who survived this splintering of the much needed clan and continued on to make their own would die within a year and a day of whence they left.
The LoreKeep told the White Queen of this curse and the Queen honored it, showing a surprising amount of respect for those that were killed as they rested for but a few nights. When they left on that last morning, she left an offering to those that had lived there, at which time the Old Witch, who had always watched over what was once her home, made her alliance and swore to be loyal to the Queen as a stronger alpha than she.
After this he that had been a tabby yet was a tiger when not confined by the spells of humans spoke his concern for the mission, as well as the safety of the White Queen, who was as a white panther while free of Human lands. The LoreKeep was as ever a pelican, the witch a great winged wolf with a wide, dragon-like muzzle.
While they were powerful creatures, they were few and could not easily protect the Queen should trouble arise and she need defending, even with her superior powers.
And so the Queen made the tiger her Guard and they continued their travels, back to Trá where they could see Caisleán, the land where the most Shifter slaves had been hoarded.
There, the Queen put to use the training she had received from the LoreKeep, reaching through all the minds of those within the castle to speak to all at once, informing them of a secret passage out of the castle that several scouting trips had revealed. She would help them escape, dangerous though this was - they need only to search for the great white unicorn that was the White Queen, another of her forms, when they reached Trá. She would find and aid them, and would be hard to miss as even her horn and hooves were of the purest white.
Every day a few more would have chance to pass by the secret passage and escape, greeted instantly by the Guard who guided them to their Queen and the two others that were the beginning of her innermost circle.
Every day the old war was started anew, as the Shifters gathered to reclaim their lands and, finally, fight back.
And every day the White Queen felt the other Strangeling just a bit stronger than she had previously. Each night the dreams of him seem more and more real. With this pull, so grows the conviction that the Old Witch and LoreKeep are keeping something from her - although instinct tells her that part of it is simply that the LoreKeep will soon die. Gods only know what else they may be keeping among themselves, as lead powers under the Queen.
The old war was begun anew.
