| Subject: *Dusklight smiles and hands the cub to Scamps.* (story inside.) |
Author:
Dusklight
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Date Posted: 10:27:43 10/31/01 Wed
In reply to:
Dusklight
's message, "A night to remember . . ." on 16:26:28 10/30/01 Tue
This is his story, from what I could piece together . . .
Many seasons ago, far in the south, there was a infamous fox warlord called Ugeye. He had a mate named Vakkom, who shared in his battles and his victories.
Ugeye brought his horde of four hundred brown rats against a community of peaceful creatures. The hordes of Ugeye suffered terrible losses, Vakkom was slain, along with over three hundred rats. Ugeye was injured; he recovered physically, but was insane from this point on.
Ugeye stole shrew longboats, and forced his remaining eight score rats to row upstream, season after season, into the far north. He spoke of finding his son, which confused his rats because Ugeye had never had a child. Fear of the insane ruler kept the soldiers obedient.
When the rivers became to icy to navigate, Ugeye abandoned the boats and forced his horde to march through the snow covered northlands. He was always searching, and ranting on about his son.
Some time later, the horde stumbled upon some wolf tracks. Ugeye forced the rats to follow them. He crazy eyes glinting in anticipation.
Ugeye and his horde tracked the wolf to his den. He ordered his rats to attack the cave. The wolf and his wife were both slain, but not without taking three scores of rats with them.
Ugeye rushed into the cave and emerged with an infant wolfcub. "My Son!" he cried. "His name is Deathgrip, and he is your leader."
Ugeye and the remaining rats, slowly dying off from injuries and cold, took the wolfcub and started to head back south.
That is how I found them. A crazy fox, six brown rats, and an infant wolf, gathered around the campfire in the middle of a northern winter.
The guard on duty was ill, and drifted in and out of consciousness. When he saw me, he thought I was a spirit from the darkforest that had come to end his suffering. He told me this story, and I knocked him unconscious. I took the wolfbabe, and left. I flew back here and left no tracks to be followed; they will not find us.
I figure that the winter will kill off the vermin. They have no knowledge of survival in this climate.
As for the babe, I call him Tangaloor. I want to raise him here, if that is okay.
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