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Post by Imala Neruu on Mar 28, 2017 3:09:13 GMT
Imala Neruu lay curled uncomfortably on her side, wrists and ankles tightly bound. The bindings bit into her skin as she struggled against them, a few patches already rubbed painfully raw beneath the rope. No matter how she twisted, she just didn’t have the strength to break free. She would surely have stood a chance in her other form, but she hadn’t been able to shape-change for weeks now. Already out of breath, she rolled onto her back and let her limbs go limp. From her spot on the floor, her green eyes focused on the small window, the last light of the sun was steadily fading. Time was running out. “Bring her out!” Called the Elder Shaman, the sound of his voice made Imala go ridged. A moment later, there were two men in tribal masks dragging her from the shelter of her dwelling. The Sacred Circle was already alight with a bon fire, and all members of the Neruui Tribe stood clustered around it. They had once looked upon the royal daughter with pride and admiration, but their gazes now turned cold in Imala’s presence. Chief Heren Neruu had been bound as well, and made to kneel before the Elder Shaman, his face dripping with fresh blood. “Father…” Imala whispered faintly, her heart suddenly filled with a mix of anger and anxiety. The masked men threw Imala down at the Shaman’s feet, and the muttering crowd went silent. “Cursed one,” The Elder did not dare to speak her name, “Tonight you shall pay for your crimes. You seek to destroy the tribe; you have withered our crops and brought sickness upon us. We shall no longer suffer your presence.” Imala swallowed hard and chanced a glance up at the Elder Shaman. The firelight danced against his face, the shadows and deep lines drew an expression that was both solemn and sinister. He wanted blood. A silver dagger flashed in his hand, and he held the blade up towards the dark sky. The young woman shook her head, unable to even find the voice to beg to be spared. Perhaps it was better this way; perhaps… they would be better off without her. “For the sake of the Neruui,” The Shaman spoke again; his cold voice cut the silence. The blade came down, but Chief Heren had lunged in front of his daughter, the point of the dagger sank deep. Imala watched with horror as her father crumpled to the ground at her side, blood blooming all around him. “Imala… Run.” His last words drifted away on the breeze. Suddenly, Imala looked up at the Elder Shaman, her eyes dark and dangerous. With a great cry of grief and rage, the young woman rose to her feet. In the blink of an eye, the raven-haired woman was gone – replaced by the feral form of a dire bear. Instantly, the Shaman’s disciples rushed forward, showing the bear the sharp ends of their spears. A large paw batted a few men down, leaving scarlet claw-marks on their skin. The bear roared in pain as a few cuts found her side, and she was forced to retreat. The Elder Shaman gave the signal, and a hail of arrows came down upon her position. A single arrow pierced her right shoulder; the sharpness took her breath away. The beast stumbled and fell to the ground, the effort of holding the form was almost too much. But deep inside, there was a hunger to live. Summoning all the strength she could, the bear lifted herself and made a swift line for the trees. There were footsteps behind, but she easily outpaced them. The injured bear kept running, fueled by fear and wild with her wish to remain alive. Deeper into the woods she traveled, deeper into darkness… Jaromir
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Post by Jaromir on Mar 30, 2017 5:03:25 GMT
Sifting the blood-stained soil between his gloved hands, Jaromir grimaced and sniffed up a stray bit of phlegm that was running down his nose from the biting chill of the air. The blood was still fresh, and so were the tracks. Those who hired a Vedmak to rid them of their blights were normally in a precarious position of desperation, and the Neruui tribe was no different. They were willing to pay large sums of money to have this woman captured. The ways of the people of the West were still somewhat foreign to Jaromir, but gold worked all the same here as it did back home. Although admittedly, he understood little of this creature he was hunting. The tribe Elders told him she was some kind of shapeshifter, able to transform into a bear at will, and that he should beware her strength. Not his usual fare of vampires, wraiths, and rusalkas, to be sure, but a contract was a contract. Her crimes against her tribe were not important to Jaromir, and so he didn't even ask. All he cared about was the state in which she was to be returned to her kinsfolk, to which the answer was dead. Simple enough for him. Bear tracks, especially fresh ones, were fortunately easy enough to follow, and so Jaromir pressed on. Judging from the occasional droplets of blood that found themselves smattered across nearby leaves, she had been wounded in the pursuit. The stains had started off nearly imperceptible to the blind eye as the blood hardened and froze to the leaves, but Jaromir was getting closer. His quarry was wounded, and thus slower than he. He had made up a significant amount of ground in the first few hours, choosing to press the pursuit as hard as he could rather than wait for daybreak the next morning, when she would be nearly impossible to find. His breath hung in the air in small tufts of clouds as he stalked through the forest, quiet and quickly as possible. Another leaf presented itself in front of his face, once again dripping with blood. Jaromir reached a finger out and caught the droplet on his glove, and put the finger to his lips. Still warm. Whatever this thing was, it was close. Imala Neruu
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Post by Imala Neruu on Mar 31, 2017 16:34:56 GMT
The frantic animal bounded through the trees, eyes focused steadily on the dark horizon. Large paws left marks upon the frosty ground, and fresh wounds painted the leaves red as she passed. Ragged breaths showed in the air, the cold made her lungs sting, but she pressed on into the night. The moon was now visible in the velvet sky; the blue-hued light filtered down through the canopy, and illuminated her way forward. After long hours of traveling, the bear’s pace slowed significantly. Now that the flurry of nerves and adrenaline had faded, she was left with the painful ache of her wounds. Her feet began to drag along the ground, shaking and unstable beneath her weight. She could smell her own blood on the breeze, and then she caught a hint of something else… an unfamiliar scent in the air. She was not alone. There was a stab of panic, but she kept moving until the forest opened up into a small clearing. Slowly, she rose up onto her hind legs, and surveyed the area carefully with eyes that were wide and alert. Despite her outward appearance, there was a strange glimmer of humanity in her gaze. There were soft footsteps growing near, someone had clearly followed her trail of tracks and blood. The large bear bristled in anticipation. There was little point in trying to run now. Even weak as she was, her senses were keen. With her nose close to the ground, she let her senses be her guide. The hunter was nearly upon her now, she could smell him. With her head low and ears pressed back, her lips curled back into a snarl, and she issued a low growl as a warning to her nighttime stalker. She did not want to wait for this stranger to make the first move. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spotted the slightest hint of movement, a shadow shifting against the darkness. A loud roar signaled that the bear was on the attack, her large form suddenly charged for the bushes with a surprising amount of speed. Jaromir
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Post by Jaromir on Apr 14, 2017 15:08:29 GMT
Each time Jaromir stuck a finger down to sample some blood on the leaves he found, the irony taste grew warmer on his lips. The tracks were fresher as well; the mud was still wet around where the bear's paws made their imprints. And then, sight was matched with sound, for just as Jaromir observed another fresh pawprint in the mud, movement was heard in the brush ahead. The beast was probably only a few dozen yards ahead. But the distinctive musk of a bear was absent from the air. This creature seemed different; why would the villagers have hired him to kill a simple bear? Jaromir took steps to quiet his own footsteps, as his boots sank softly into the wet ground. The forest grew deathly silent, and the only sound was the low hiss of Jaromir's sword unsheathing from its scabbard. He had cornered the bear and it had given up in trying to run. Instead, Jaromir was then met with a fierce roar from the underbrush nearby. He had time only to turn and face the source of the bellow before the bear was already charging him. A peculiar sight, this creature was, for he caught the faintest glimpse of its eyes as it charged him. This was no ordinary beast. Jaromir sidestepped the bear's charge with barely enough room to spare, but the weight of the bear's shoulder still caught him, pushing him to the ground. But the beast was weak from wounds, and Jaromir had not lost the grip on his sword, the blade of which came around swiftly as Jaromir thrust the point of it towards the bear's chest. Imala Neruu
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Post by Imala Neruu on Apr 17, 2017 14:54:42 GMT
The bear had succeeded in knocking her hunter off his feet. Claws dug deep into the muddy ground and brought her to a halt. Swiftly, the bear moved in to continue her attack. Teeth were bared and ready to sink into the man’s neck. But suddenly, there was a swift sharpness that made her falter. Only then did she realize that the point of the man’s sword was now pressed to her chest, and she could feel the warmth of blood beginning to spread into her fur. If this man had come to put her to death, his job was nearly done. Jaw clenched, the bear’s dark eyes squeezed closed, each breath spent in agony. She could not hold this form much longer. In the short space of time it took to blink, the man would suddenly find that there was no longer a large bear on the end of his sword -- but a woman. Imala Neruu knelt on the ground before him, weak, wounded and without a stitch of clothing. Her injuries were quite visible now, dark blood marked olive skin that almost seemed to glow in the moonlight. She had long, dark hair and features that were surprisingly delicate, a stark contrast from the snarling beast that had stood there but a moment ago. Emerald orbs shifted to find the eyes of the man, her gaze sharp but watery. And if he looked very closely, perhaps he would find the strange darkness that lingered deep within Imala. A darkness that was not her own. Her hands gripped the muddy ground, easily displaying the effort it took just to utter a word. “Do not kill me,” Imala spoke breathlessly. “I beseech you...”Imala was not sure if a simple plea would be enough. But for now, if mercy or pity would not keep her alive… perhaps curiosity would buy her some time. Jaromir
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