RPG: Marcus, a hound of the high hunt.

[Icarus]

This is the background of my character in the New RPG. I'll start posting it tomorrow, once I either find the beginning or rewrite it. Further updates will be up as soon as I write enough for a decent chapter.

Oh, a word of warning. Marcus... isn't nice. In point of fact, he is more than slightly rude. Also, I still don't advocate drinking.

Another warning: The prologue isn't graphic or truly violent, but I had a hard time writing one section. Scratch that, one sentence.


Prologue: The Genesis of Hate.

It was dark.

I was crouching outside the small circle of firelight, in the shadow of my fathers apothecary. I had been sent to bed with the sun, but there was a story in the offing. Whenever this mage came through, my parents returned late, well past midnight, and talking. I was always told a version on the story later, but that night, I wanted to hear as it was told.

I eased forward, keeping to the shadows of the plaza. I crept until I could hear his voice, a soft murmur accompanied by the crackle of the flame. I was far from stealthy, but the mage helped.

His face took on a somber cast in the firelight. His golden eyes were filled with a glow that was reflected in the faces of his listeners. It was mesmerizing, and the effect was heightened by his voice. It was low, pitched so that even his audience of Lycans had to strain to hear him. When he spoke, it was slowly, and with deliberation, as though he considered each word carefully before it was voiced.

And well he might, for it was no light tale he told.

The humans had come with torches and destroyed a village to the east. They had raced through the town, firing houses and dragging out the occupants. The men were killed immediately, while the children were made to watch their mothers fate before then being slaughtered.

It would be years until I found out what that meant, but from the immediate and horrified reactions of the listeners, I knew it to be terrible.

The question was asked, what were the council of chiefs going to do. The mage was silent, but another spoke.

Nothing, as they have always done. The attacks have been going on for generations, but we have never retaliated. Never had the Lycans sought retribution for the wrongs done us. Why?

The traveller spoke, silencing the mutters of approval.

The chiefs remembered what we forgot. They knew...

I stopped listening, retreating into the shadowed alley beside my fathers shop.

They knew. The village chiefs knew of the raids and did nothing. This was not how it should be. We are Lycans, werewolves. Hunters. We should not be prey. We cannot be prey.

There in the darkness, a resolve fired in my heart. In the shadowed corner, I clenched my fist and swore that the humans would be the ones to remember. They would remember the name Marcus in fear.

Fourteen years, and I still haven't forgotten

[CobaltAngel]

Cool! ^^ I'll be looking forward too reading about his past...
And, yeah, if you haven't figured it out yeah, one of my characters has issues himself... XD

[Bunny]

Sweet! A story about Marcus! I'll be reading it! ^_^

[Danyasaur]

sounds like Blade ^_^", but not anymore!. . . cool lookin' forward to it

[Razgriz]

Sounds awesome!

[Taslin_Jewel]

Sounds awesome!

Sounds interesting; I'll definitely be reading it. I've always wondered about Marcus; he was one of the first characters Talyra met, and I know almost nothing about him.

[Icarus]

The fletchings of the arrow brushed my cheek as I drew the bow. A buck was on the other side of a clearing, grazing in the tall grass. I waited for him to look up, that I could aim for his eye. Normally, I would have taken the shot I had and end the hunt that much sooner, but today we needed the hide without any extra holes.

A rabbit scurried through the brush to my right, starteling the deer and causing him to look up. Quickly, I aimed. Breathe in. Half out. Release.

Even as the string slipped off my claws, the wind changed, carrying my scent towards the buck. By the time my arrow reached its position, it was gone, disappearing into the forest.

I unstrung my bow and put it aside, reflecting as I did on the impending war. Any fool could see one was coming. The tensions between the continents was not something that would go away overnight, and they were still rising. I only hoped the war didn't end before I was ready to enlist.

Having secured my bow, I began chase, easily dropping to all fours to pick up the scent. Naturally, I hunt in the wolf state. Every thing is easier that way. I react faster, my senses are sharper, and I'm physically stronger. Like I said, its easier this way.

As I raced, I mentally reviewed my now limited options: Hamstringing could ruin the hide, so that is a no go; it is impossilble to draw and throw a knife while running full tilt on your hands and feet, so mark that another no. Plan C, cut the deers throat, seemed the best option.

I ran after the buck, its scent growing steadily stronger as I closed. Just a few more leaps and it would all be over. Five more bounds, and this hunt would be done. I hate having to hunt.

I leapt. In the air, another choice occurred to me. Sheathing my blade, I reached for the deers head, wrenching its neck before it could dart from my grasp.

It was almost over. All that was left... A snarl of disgust escaped my lips as I began the bloody business of dressing the deer.

God I hate hunting.
________________________________
Brandon:

Hours ago, I'd been told a Lycan would come by in a little while. My water had gotten warm while I waited, as had its replacement. I ordered another, hoping it would not meet the same fruitless fate.
________________________________

As I entered the tavern, my eyes took in the regulars. Not that I went there often enough to know them, but if you go to several of these establishments, you get a feel for who has been warming the same worn stools for years. There was a new guy at the bar. His discomfiture announced itself in his posture; small, quick movements as noises caught his attention; and a nervous glance not seeming to know where to land until it settled on me.

The neophyte stared as I walked to the bar. I could almost hear his mind cataloging me as I approached. I'm too tall for some races, leaving human, the elves and werewolf. My ears are pointed, so humanity is gone. My coloring is too dark, with black hair and green eyes, to be a normal Elf. Night Elf or Lycan, then. After odering my drink, I turned and smiled to give him the last pieces he needed. Unusually long and sharp canines gave it away. As I collected my beer and retreated to a corner table, I saw a stunned look on his face as he reached the only conclusion left: "That man was a Werewolf!"

Hopefully, the legends of my people will keep him away, so I can abuse my liver in peace.

[CobaltAngel]

Okay, can't wait to hear more. ^_^ Werewolves are so freakin cool...

[Taslin_Jewel]

That was cool. I hope to hear more, 'cause I still know next to nothing about him!

[Bunny]

AND...

Get back to the RPG!
Stories coming along well.

[Razgriz]

Very cool! Looking forward to the next part

[Icarus]

Sorry, Taslin, but you will still know next to nothing about him for a while yet.

Brandon:

As the gentleman went to his table, I quietly asked the bartender, "Is that Marcus?

"Yeah, that's him. If you want to talk to him, I'd suggest that you do it now. 'Cuz by the time he finishes that drink, it will have removed what is left of his winning personality."

"Thank you."

I looked over to check Marcus progress. He had already downed a third of his beer. Hurriedly, I paid and headed towards his table, abandoning my water. It was warm again.
___________________________________

Before I had half finished my beer, the young man I had noted at the bar came over to where I was sitting. Blast. Sighing, I put aside the mug as he drew near.

"Marcus?" he asked.

"Who are you and what do you want? Make it quick. You're interrupting my drink."

I hoped if I was rude enough, he would be offended and leave. Of course, that would only work if the day were going my way. It wasn't, which is why I am here. Which is why he sat down.

"My name is Brandon Walker, and I'd hoped you would do me a favor. I would like to go with you when you return to your village."

I took a sip of my beer. His mouth moved slightly as his eyes trailed the mug back to the table.

"Why?" Another sip.

"I want to study your society."

Spraying people with beer is frowned on in all races. Eventually, I managed to swallow. Once I had it down, I asked again,

"Seriously, why?"

"My grandmother was a werewolf. She said she came from a village near here, and I wanted to see it."

So that was his story. Before I took him anywhere, I'd have to check. I started to transform. At Brandons frightened start the bartender looked over to see what was going on.

"Marcus, you know the deal. I serve you, and you don't transform."

I waved him into silence. Ah, yes. The deal was neccesitated by the owners policy against werewolves. "No dogs allowed." I've never had the chance to express my appreciation for his wording. I'm sure he is thankful.

I didn't fully transform, only enough to catch Brandons scent. If, as he claimed, he is partially Lycan, there would be a hint of wolf in his smell. There wasn't. In its place was another canine scent I couldn't immediately place. While I worked on the smell, I reverted to normal to question him further.

"Smile. Bare your teeth."

At my instruction, he went from a movement of the lips to a full grin. His eye teeth are a bit longer and sharper than normal.

"Ears."

Questioningly, Brandon turned his head. His ears were rounded and well defined. All in all, quite typically human lobes.

I had already noted his eye and hair color; blue and black, respectively. While blue eyes are rare among Lycans, they are not unheard of. His hair bothered me, though.

Brandon turned to face me.

"What, may I ask, was the meaning of that examination?"

"Simple. When humans and Lycans breed.."

His mouth twitched. It had been quite active, bordering on a grimace several times during the examination

"You would prefer I use a nicer word, like mate, or marry, perhaps? As I was saying, when humans and Lycans marry, the Lycan traits dominate for a couple of generations. Have you started to transform under the full moon yet?"

He looked down at his empty hands, studying them for a moment before he replied.

"No, but I will soon. I was told it would begin about my twentieth year. I wanted to find out how Lycans lived before that happened."

I stood up to leave. He would have joined me, but I gestured for him to remain.

"A nice story, but it doesn't quite ring true. You smell wrong for one thing, and another is that the last werewolf to leave from my village was...

I sat down again. The smile that spread across my face must have been particularly wofish, as Brandon looked more than a little frightened.

"You dye your hair."

"What has that to do with anything?"

"You are a redhead."

He nodded silently.

"Let's deal."

[Icarus]

Brand:

Marcus sat back down, turning his chair as he did so. His eyes. I had almost become accustomed to the light they emitted, but as he leaned foward, it gained in intensity until his face was the stuff of nightmares. His smile wasn't helping.

"You dye your hair." His statement jolted a portion of the fear from my system.

"What does that have to do with anything?" My retort only seemed to make things worse. All the fear that had left me came flooding back as Marcus leaned uncomfortably close. His eyes transfixed me, seeming to root me to my seat.

"You are a redhead."

As he revealed knowedge he shouldn't have had, it was all I could do to nod. My guts were knotting themselves in intricate patterns, but they were the only thing moving. I was frozen, petrified by the combination of his blazing eyes and feral grin.

"Let's deal." At that one moment, Marcus' eyes could have lit the room. He leaned back, keeping his arms hooked on the chair back. A dangerous smile remained on his face, but his eyes had dimmed back to their former glow.

Thank God.
_________________
Marcus:

"Ten percent." I'll admit, ten was a bit high, but it was just my opening offer. Truth be told, I would have settled for five.

"I'm sorry?"

"Seven and a half, but that's as low as I'll go."

"Of what?"

He was good. There was no way that I could have said that with so much innocence. The fear had left his face and all that was left was... bewilderment?

"You honestly don't know?"

"Know what?" He spread his hands in frustration. "First, you say I smell wrong, then you ask about my hair color. Now you are obviously trying to negotiate something, but I have no idea what it is."

I slumped foward over the back of the chair. He truly didn't know. My head hung as I sighed in defeat. Admittedly, he was raised among humans, but you'd think his grandmother would surely tell him something as important as this. Okay, I could still make this work. I just couldn't rely on him to start things moving. I just had to think of how I could make it work.

"Well?" I had taken too long. I looked up to see Brandon shifting his weight in his chair. "Are you going to tell me or not?"

I scrambled for some way to swing this. "Okay, seven and a half percent, and I'll tell you on the way to the village."

"Three percent of whatever it is, and you'll start explaining as we walk out the door."

"Six, and I'll be your man for life." That was an easy offer.

"Four."

"Five percent, or I swear I'll leave right now."

"Four percent."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he broke in. "All I need is a ride, whereas you seem to need me for something much more important. Four percent. I can always wait for someone else."

He had me. "Four percent," I grumbled.

"Good," he said standing. Shall we go then?"

I stood to join him, fishing coins from my vest pocket to pay for my drink. As we stepped through the door, he asked precisely what he had agreed to give me four percent of.

"Simple," I said smiling. "Tribute."

[true_noir_chloe]

Obviously, your writing is as superb as always, Icarus. I'm wondering, what this is. Everyone seems to know about Marcus already. Do you all play a game with this character? Is this an RPG that I could find somewhere? I don't play RPG's, but I thought I would ask. It sounds interesting.

[Taslin_Jewel]

Obviously, your writing is as superb as always, Icarus. I'm wondering, what this is. Everyone seems to know about Marcus already. Do you all play a game with this character? Is this an RPG that I could find somewhere? I don't play RPG's, but I thought I would ask. It sounds interesting.

Marcus is his character on the New RPG: World Crystal Quest thread in Role Playing. You are welcome to join, but you'll have to wait for a while. Sangoku is in the middle of picking a co-GM.

[true_noir_chloe]

Thanks for answering my question, Taslin. No, I don't think I could keep up with your game. Thanks for inviting me anyway, that was very sweet of you. I might go take a look at what it is. ^-~

[Icarus]

Obviously, your writing is as superb as always, Icarus.

Icarus is currently on cloud nine, strumming a harp. Until he gets back down to earth, this is Jon.

Thank you so much, Chloe. I'd begun to worry that it stunk.

*checks on Icarus* Nope, he is still up there.

[Icarus]

It only took me five hours to come back down. Any way to those who just read the last post, check the first one. I added a prologue.

[Taslin_Jewel]

It only took me five hours to come back down. Any way to those who just read the last post, check the first one. I added a prologue.

OOOO! ~claps~ That was awesome....I demand more!

[Icarus]

Okay, part of the next section. Sorry it's so short.

Brand:

"Tribute."

That brought me up short. "You said that you'd explain every thing, so start. Why would I recieve tribute?" I was talking to empty space, Marcus had kept walking down the dusty road. I ran to cath up with him.

"Every thing you've said seems to have been calculated to confuse me. You've piqued my curiousity, but never revealed anything beyond more question. What is going on?"

I'm sorry to say that my voice was rising for most of my tirade, but Marcus was unmoved. He merely stopped, crossing his arms as a smile twitched across his face.

"What's going on is you're getting your horse. Unless you want to ride in the back of my wagon."

Impossible. It should be impossible for some one to be that annoyingly cryptic. I walked back to the tavern and untied Blood Rose to the sound of Marcus's muffled laughter.

At that point, I almost gave up on the entire mess. I had my horse and pack, and had been paying for my room on a nightly basis. I could just go home and live as my mother had, "visiting relatives on the full moon.

I would have left, but for the reason that I was even there. To this day, I'm not sure if my father knows about us, so closely did mother gaurd her secret. I had decided, long before the outset of my journey, that I would not live that way, concealing the truth from all around.

I would have to leave with Marcus, if I was going to go at all. I had been waiting for over a month, and the two Lycans that had come through had rejected my request out of hand. My birthday was at the end of next month, and it was doubtful that another consenting werewolf would come along in that time. It seemed Marcus was my last chance.
________________________________________________
Once more, sorry it's so short. I still haven't written the other half of this section.

[Icarus]

This will probably be edited after I post it, let me know if you see anything you feel needs attention.

Marcus:

While Brand untied is horse, I thought of the possibilities. If my plan worked, I could do almost anything. Forget the apothecary, I could run a town, at least. With the percentage Brand had agreed to, I could buy the town. The prestige of being his advisor, I could trade on that alone, with the respect I would command. Why, if I had Brand's ear, I could set my dream in motion. I could finally launch.

"Marcus, are you ready to go?"

Brand's tone as he interrupted my thoughts was a bit sharp, but I didn't mind. I was about to be on top of the world, and he was the means.

I turned to see him leading a roan mare. A quarter staff angled back from a holder behind his saddle. "I've been ready for a while. The wagon is just outside of town." I led the way down the street, past the various houses and shops.

When we had palled the last houses, I retrieved the wagon from where I had left it, and we continued in silence towards my home. It didn't last, as after a little time had elapsed, Brand cleared his throat. "You were going to tell me why I am going to receive tribute?"

I always get the hard ones. But then, that one question led to the crux of the whole matter. I explained as much while I collected my thoughts.

"It all comes back to a legend. Ages past, at the end of the great war, Lycans split into the tribal system we still use today. But, as the story went, one day among the Wolves would rise a Fox, who would change everything. It would rule the Lycans as none before. Emphasis on rule.

Almost 70 years ago now, a girl was born in my village. Her parents thought she was a normal child until her hair came in. It was red. Once they verified that her coloring was not the result trickery, the elders declared her to be the Fox of legend, and took an official interest in her upbringing.

Over some protests, it was decided that she would be removed from her home to be raised by the elders. Who else was fit to raise the child to be queen? As she aged, they taught her all they knew of governance, until finally, she was deemed ready.

As the day drew near, all the tribes gathered to see her crowned. From the far reaches of the Lycan territory, they met to witness that singular event.

She didn't show. She had run the night before, on her twentieth birthday.

Natrually, they searched, but when they failed to find her after three months, they accepted their loss.

Now, you have come. When I said you smell wrong, I meant that all Lycans scent contains a slight amount of wolf. You, on the other hand, smell like a fox. You're the Vixens descendant. You are the queen's grandson.

One last thing, the elders had always had a council that met infrequently to discuss events, but during the Brushfire's childhood, they reorganized themselves to better disseminate the royal proclamations and enforce her will. When they gave up on her, they retained the new structuring. All we have to do is present you as the Vixen's grandson; and, after confirmation, you can be intalled as the king of the Lycans."

His wonder filled eyes looked back at me as I said, "Now, any questions?"

[Icarus]

This so needs work. I'll post it and then go back and edit.

Brand:

"... You are the Vixens grandson."
The tought leapt out that this is the reason that my grandmother left. When asked about her past before she met grandpa, she would always turn evasive, sayin only that she had run away from her previous home. When I requested her advice on this journey, she said that the name "Brushfire" was anathema to werewolves. On anything beyond that, their governence, their customs, their history, she fell silent.

I was beginning to have suspicions of who Brushfire was, but voicing them now would serve no purpose. Instead, I asked another question I had been pondering.

"Do Lycans belive in God?"

He took a while before responding; swaying gently as the cart went over a bump in the road. When he answered, his face had darkened slightly.

"Most do. The majority converted not long after the vixen, about 50 years ago."

"You said most, do you?"

"No."

"Why not?" I'll admit, I was prying, but I never expected the reaction that provoked.

He was silent for a moment, as he twitched the reigns. He smiled, but it was a dark smile, reflected in the unholy glow of his eyes.

"What do you know of the legends about my people?" With out waiting for me to respond, he continued. "We are portayed as monsters; beasts that live only to kill, without a rational thought in our heads. During the day, werewolves may be relatively harmless; but at night, watch out!

"Do you know how long it has been since werewolves attacked humans? It has been generations since a Lycan even considered the idea. Yet, within my father's lifetime, humans have destroyed five villages, down to the last child. And that doesn't mention the atrocities done to those poor soul who were lost outside there tribes on the full moon.

"Humans have done this to my people, and they expect me to accept their God? I'll believe in what I can see. I'll believe in Elements."

Marcus's voice had started low, but had risen as he went on. Not from added fervor, as it was obvious from the beginning that he meant every word he spoke; but from a slight loss of control. He was never raving, but it was apparent that he was trying, and failing, to contain his emotion. Hatred bled through what he said until it hung in the air like a mist.

What could I say? After his speech, it would have been the height of absurdity to mention beliefs of any kind.

"I have one last question."

He snarled in response, but I proceeded. "What was the vixens name?"

It came out with a growl, but he distinctly said "Brushfire."

And with that, silence fell.

[Icarus]

Story pronounced DOA at Daedalus Community General, Apr. 17, 2004, at 1:17 AM.

[Jaltus-bot]

Icarus, you have a gift. I hope to see more of this story. Well done.

[Icarus]

New section. They finally get to Marcus's house.



Silence. Who would have thought it could be so loud? The creaking of the wagon as it followed the ruts inthe road; the squeal of a rusty axle; the endless, enervating plodding from the horses hoove. Together, they rang heavily through the converted belltower of my skull. Stopping the echoes required most of my concentration, but the rest went to my situation.

Why do I drink? It's not as though I get drunk, but the hangover still hits me a half-hour later. Every time I hunt, I get a drink on the way home. That leads inevitably to a hangover I never quite seem to earn. During it, I vow never to touch alcohol again, and I don't. Until the next hunt. Every single time.

By the time we reached town, I had begun to look on the positive side. After all, the hunt was over, Brandon had asked about religion, and my hangover was almost gone. What more could go wrong in one day?

That, for one. Today is not my day.



Brandon:

After a few moments, silence can become akward. After twenty minutes, it can be patently miserable, particularly if you don't know the person sharing it. I was forestalled in breaking the tenuous calm by Marcus. His oath was startling in its unexpectedness. The Lord only knows what he was thinking the past half-hour.

At my query, he pointed to a building ahead of us. "That's my fathers shop. It's where I live, where I work, and where I'll most likely die."

"Do you despise it that much?" Rather than answering, he turned to face me, alloing his expression to speak for him.


Marcus:

"Why?"

Does he ever stop? "I hate it because I've had to work there since I was twelve. I had to burrow around in roots and herbs until I could smell them in my sleep. My clothes would be covered in dirt and plant stains before I set foot out the door. I suppose running an apothecary isn't that bad, but I was never given any choice. I was just told to start working one day and..."

We arrived then, interrupting my rant. As we neared the door, I ran through the list. Smile, act pleasant, and no cursing the house while under its roof. Now we can enter.

My face froze on seeing my father. I couldn't tell him who Brandon was without explaining my plans, and that would start another argument. As I had no idea how to introduce him, I said the first thing that came to mind.

"He followed me home. Can I keep him?"

Today is really not my day.

[Jaltus-bot]

Thank you soooo much for adding to the story. Please keep it up.

[Icarus]

Brand|
Yes, he did actually say that. The silence that followed was ended with the gentleman in front of me asking "Is he house trained?"

They turned to me to continue the absurdity, and I obliged. "Yes, I am; I do tricks as well." Extending my hand in a more traditional greeting, I gave my name.

"Edmund Marcus. My son has claimed the family name, so call me Edmund." His hands surrounded mine in a clasp that was almost delicate, and his face creased into a smile. As it relaxed, I began to see the similarities between the two. They both had a cleft chin ending a slightly long face with high cheekbones. As I'd come to expect, Edmunds ears were pointed, though a bit smaller than Marcus's. If not for their eye color, telling them apart would be problematic.

"So, what brings you out here?"

Ignoring Marcus's look, I began to recount my tale, that I was a quarter Lycan, and my grandmother was from the area. This time, I volunteered my hair color. It had been rather disconcerting to have Marcus guess.

"Really? Not to be rude, but what does that have to do with..." Comprehension was followed by a weary sigh that changed Edmund's features with the ease of habit. "Marcus, please tell me you didn't know about this."

Marcus leaned against the counter, carefully expressionless. Obviously, he knew, and just as obviously, it meant something that he did. Lovely.
"Pardon me, but why does it matter? Why is it important if he knows my heritage?"

"James? Is that you?"

The interruption was followed by the sound of feet on the stairs. "James" straitened self conciously, and Edmund smiled once more. Once the lady descended, I understood why. Few from my days at court could have surpassed the dignity she emanated, and those few would still have envied her as theirs was obtained through artifice. She hugged Marcus, inquiring about the hunt.

"It went as well as could be expected." Stepping back from the embrace, he turned to introduce me. "Mother, this is Brandon Walker. Brandon, this is my mother, Bernice. "

She extended her hand, and I had to suppress the urge to bow over it. Instead, I shook it carefully. "Charmed."

"Likewise, I'm sure. Edmund, why don't you ever say things like that?"

"Continous exposure has inured me to the spell, but for when attention is paid it and it regains its potency. How are you dear?"

She murmured contentment while accepting his kiss.

[CobaltAngel]

AHAHAHA! Priceless moments! This is great, write more soon or I might die! I'm gonna have o draw Macrus and Brand, they're so cool!

My favorite part so far:

As I had no idea how to introduce him, I said the first thing that came to mind.

"He followed me home. Can I keep him?"

Today is really not my day.

[CobaltAngel]

double post. e.e sorry;;;

[Jaltus-bot]

As always, your work is both delightful and finely engaging. Cheers.