[Mkguild] Blood Moon (1 of 1)

[C. Matthias]

I dashed this one off this morning.  It is 
officially the shortest Metamor Keep story I've 
ever written by myself (the collab I did with 
Hallan, Sharing the Light, is about a hundred words shorter).

Note that I am waiting for approval on certain 
aspects from Stealth.  If he lets me know I've 
screwed something up then I will make changes and send out a revised version.


Metamor Keep: Blood Moon
by Charles Matthias

May 30, 708 CR

The cracking of the northeastern sky ten days 
past had left a somber glow through the cool 
Spring night; it cast the foothills of the 
Barrier in strange colors and bathed the moon in 
an unhealthy sheen. A blood moon, Essen's 
companions called it, and made signs to ward off 
evil to gods most had long abandoned. There were 
few gods of light thieves and brigands could call 
upon. And besides, at best the moon had a yellow cast and not the red of blood.

Essen did not fear. Draconia was situated outside 
the boundary of Metamor's Curse, and they 
frequently slipped within to pilfer farms of 
their livestock and to harass the travelers from 
Starven or Poltizen who risked the dangerous road 
south. With the Haunted Wood on their southern 
doorstep, they were as safe as they could be from 
the ravages of Lutin tribes and the armies of 
Metamor. Obeisance to first Nasoj and now Lilith 
protected them from worse things. Only the ghosts 
in the woods and the Curse of Metamor were to be feared.

And now Essen only feared the ghosts. Five months 
past the wall of light showed him what the Curse 
would do; he greedily accepted it. Few risked the 
Curses because in a den of thieves where only 
strength and cunning kept you alive almost all 
the results made you weaker. The weapons, the 
warmth, and the shape of a massive brown bear made him stronger.

The blood moon gave the bear-man enough light to 
see the forest by, and his ears and nose gave him 
the rest. His companions feared his claws and 
jaws and though they welcomed him on raids, he 
did nearly all else on his own – though they did 
take perverse delight in sampling the women he'd 
bedded to see if they could make them scream as 
loud. He enjoyed such frivolities almost as much 
as he enjoyed hunting game. There was something 
almost spiritual about crushing the life from a 
deer with his own jaws. Blood tasted good.

Essen carried a buckler with knives and slung his 
bow and arrows across his back but he bore 
nothing else. Bears had no need of clothes. He 
crept about on all fours, nose checking the 
ground for the trail of game. An hour past he had 
scented does and now followed them along the 
ruins of the old dike. There were at least three, 
and possibly a fawn or two among them. And they 
were close. He lifted his head, flecked his lips 
as he sniffed, small eyes scouring the moon-lit woods.

He could not see as far as he once had, but his 
eyes, when guided by scent and sound, were able 
to notice far more. Perhaps fifty yards to the 
northwest he spotted them through the dense maze 
of trees. The gap was too narrow for any arrow, 
and so he cautiously returned to all fours and 
began to wind his way to his prey, ever taking care to stay upwind.

Yet the closer he came, the more the fur along 
his broad back tingled. He lifted his head to 
check his quarry – still there, three does and 
two fawns – and then stood on his hind-legs to 
glance all about, nose sniffing at the air. He 
shifted from his full bear shape and plucked 
daggers from his belt. The weight of his bow and 
quiver settled on his back, but the fur there 
would not. There was nothing in the air but the 
deer, and yet something was there. He wondered if 
another animal-cursed brigand – and there were 
others like him in Draconia – followed him with 
dread purpose. No matter what any bard sang, 
there was no honor among thieves; if they sought 
him in secret they intended to kill him.

Essen made a show of dropping to all fours, but 
kept his man-like shape and the daggers balled 
into his fists. It made walking uncomfortable, 
but it might trick whoever stalked him into 
thinking him unaware. He lumbered to the north a 
dozen paces, still upwind of the deer, until he 
passed behind a large, stout oak whose trunk was 
as wide as five men and bark full of burls. Essen 
paused to listen, but whoever followed him was 
silent and still upwind. He flecked his lips in 
delight at the hunt, put the daggers back in the 
buckler, and then scrambled up the trunk of the 
tree. He'd practiced climbing in silence for the 
last few months and felt a smile cross his snout 
at how well he'd done; not a branch creaked nor 
bark scrapped in his ascent. He settled in a nook 
of branches sheltered from the full moon and waited.

A minute later the deer all lifted their heads to 
stare in his direction and bolted with white 
tails raised. The chirping of insects and the 
calling of owls dwindled. An eerie silence 
settled over the woods and Essen felt his heart 
tighten. He felt a yearning to scramble down and 
lumber through the woods as far and as fast as he could.

How foolish! You are not an animal. You are a man 
with the strength and power of a bear!

Chiding himself kept his body still, but could 
not keep his fur from raising, his nostrils from 
flaring, or his heart from racing. Something was 
upwind, but what? None of his companions, no 
matter their forms, would spook him so. Could it 
be one of the ghosts? But they had never come so far north! Surely not them!

Essen trembled and hated himself for it.

And then, after several fearful minutes he heard 
them. A soft rustling in the underbrush emerged 
from the stillness, and then in the clearing 
beneath the oak, two wolves appeared. Their heads 
were lifted and staring to the west where the 
deer once trod. They did not sniff the ground, 
nor did they glance into the branches. Essen held 
his breath but felt a grin crease his snout and 
cheek ruff. He flexed his fingers and their long 
claws, waiting for the wolves to pass. How 
strange a mere pack of wolves caused such terror.

They moved without haste but with focus beneath 
the tree. As soon as their tails were past, Essen 
jumped arms outstretched, ready to rake their backs to ribbons.

Both wolves bolted forward as one, turned, bodies 
shifting upward, furred-hands emerging from their 
forepaws to greet him. A blaze of light struck 
Essen in the chest like a fiery boulder. He 
smacked against the tree, bow and arrows cracking 
between them, before slumping to the ground to catch his breath.

Something else jumped on his back, claws digging 
in through the fur and fangs grappling the back 
of his neck. Essen tried to roar as he lifted one 
arm to swat the creature away, but there was no 
air to escape his throat. His first swipe missed, 
and then the first two wolf-creatures were upon 
him, bolts of light knocking him aside again.

He landed sprawled on his back, muscles tightened 
in pain, as the third creature, partly wolf like 
the rest, climbed atop his chest. Essen could 
only stare in horror at the face above him. He 
had a rumpled shock of dark hair mixed with 
lighter-hued fur and triangular ears atop a human 
forehead, the pockmarked cheeks of a youth on the 
cusp of manhood, cleft lips and dark nose like a 
wolf, and slavering jaws with a long tongue 
between cruel fangs. The eyes glimmered a pearly 
blue with no trace of the boy. A clawed hand 
touched by snatches of gray fur stroked down the 
wolf-boy's back with an odd tenderness.

Essen's snout turned toward the figure standing 
at his side and felt his blood run cold. He stood 
on two legs like a man, but the legs were those 
of a beast and a long lush tail swayed between 
them. His chest and arms were man-like though 
touched in patches with gray fur peppered by 
black. He bore a massive wolf's head, his golden 
eyes briefly alighting upon Essen before 
returning with affection to the creature pinning 
him down. The one hand curled about the beast's 
ears as a subtle smile played at the edges of his 
jowls. The other wrapped about the end of a 
knapsack slung over his shoulder. Something tinkled like river stones within.

The voice was a growl, but the words were 
intelligible. “Very good, my little pup. You have 
done well. You have all done well. Now feast; we 
must keep up our strength if we are to reach Metamor.”

A trio of jaws dug into his fur and ripped out 
his neck and innards. Essen tried to scream but 
only blood came forth. He stared into the sky 
past the mocking wolf's smile and beheld the 
moon. His companions were right. It was red.

----------

Note that "Essen" is German for "Food" or "Eat". ;-)

May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias
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