The World of Secfenia

To the north east of Fenia lay the foothills of a tall and forbidding mountain range. Though the impressive peaks were capped with snow all through summer, he did not know their name. Though the crags and boulders presented challenges and obstacles, he welcomed them. A loose pile of gravel and broken stone fell as it was disturbed by a searching hand, clattering down until they landed on a large heap a ways below. Dirty fingernails scratched and clawed at the rocks as rag wrapped feet struggled for a foothold in the cracks and crevices beneath him. The wind blew hard and had unfeeling, carrying with it a chill not usually felt this time of year. Rain must be coming, he thought and indeed there were dark clouds far off over the sea that were dark and heavily pregnant with rain.

Setting his battered feet down upon the boulder he looked over a small cleft in the rocks and what appeared to be a cave. The opening was nearly as tall as he and a bit wider than that, small scrub bushes desperately clawed up through the stone to collect what little sunlight they could. His cloak whipped about him now as the wind picked up again and began to push against him as he trudged forwards.

A few crows had been drinking from one of the dark pools nearby and cawed loudly, irritated by his presence but he paid them no mind. They hopped around like mad things, still cawing and trying to intimidate him to leave their eyrie. Throwing his cloak up around him like great leathery wings Anfauglir charged the crows and roared terribly at them. The stony hills echoed with his monstrous cacophony, but the crows did not move, and they jawed in return. So he kicked at them and waved his arms. He did not want company.

The Sun was setting and a pale moon began to rise and with it the crimson orb he hated so much. Both were waxing but the red moon would be the first to fullness. This was the Thunder Moon and it would soon fill his ears with an irresistible call...to hunt.

Fenia Pestilasis, she thought, getting on her hands and knees and examning the purple coloured plant in great detail. Yes, this was definitely it. The root of this plant added to a potion and boiled for three days under a full moon could make a poison capable of bringing out the unforunate victim in a terrible, agonising plague, but also, the leaves when boiled made a rather good tea. Aida plucked it from the rocky ground, sliced off the root and placed it into her wicker basket. Some of the rarest herbs in Secfenia could be found in mountains like these, but it was also a welcome break from the overwhelming smells and sounds of town. Gravel crunched under foot as she made her way down a narrow pass towards where Oona the donkey was pulling in vain at some shrub embedded into the rock.

"Come on, old girl, it's time to go." She tied the basket onto the saddle, pulling at the reigns as the donkey stubbornly refused. Aida sighed and looked around whilst she pulled a little harder. Was that some figure climbing the rocks way ahead, or her imagination? She blinked and the moving spot on the rocks disappeared. She had just made a hoofs worth of progress with her mount when a terrible, drawn out scream echoed down the hills, amplifyed by the sheer rock face. Aida froze as Oona bolted down the path. She had heard that sound only once before and a surge of memories flooded into her mind all at once. Instinctively, she knelt and cast a circle of runes on the ground around her, before realising that this would only trap her where she stood. Watching the little donkey flee down the mountain pass, she took a deep breath and ran after her, gravel flying underfoot. With any luck, it wasn't human blood it was craving tonight.

Many Years Ago

The wind howled across the moors in the lands outside Cyanea of Muria, beating down or throwing off anything it could. Two boys ran from a small copse of trees and across the heather to their home. The first was older, taller, and had ruddy brown hair. The second was shorter, younger, and with hair as black as coal.

“Keep up little brother! Or I’ll feed your breakfast to the pigs!”

“Arrrgghh rawr rawr!”

The little boy snapped and growled as ferociously as he could, determined to beat his brother home this time. He was certain that he could, if only he wasn't carrying strings of fish across his shoulders. Unbeknownst to him, the string was becoming light by the minute as fish that had been tied on by small fingers with small knots fell off one by one. Little pale feet pounded against the earth and grass as the two brothers rounded the rocky crag at the entrance to the glen, and their home. As they turned the older brother slipped, stumbled, and fell onto the dewy grass. His hand landing in something wet and mushy, he looked down and was relieved to find it was only a fish. He looked curious for a moment and then saw his brother’s string with only one fish remaining.

The little boy ran on gleefully as his brother fell behind. He could his him calling his name but he didn’t turn, knowing it was a trick to let him catch up. Their father came out to see what the yelling was about when his youngest son ran up to him and held out his string of fish proudly.

“We caught breakfast pa…”

Now he knew why his brother was calling his name.

“Papa they must have…”

His speech was silenced by the back of his father’s hand coming across his face, knocking him to the ground.

“Go and pick up all those fish you dropped. Every last one! And I don’t want you to come back until you’ve done so!”

Their mother came out and took him in her arms, running her hand over the red mark on his face, and drying his tears with her shawl. But his father grabbed her and the older brother, telling them he needed to grow out of his boyishness and become a man sooner rather than later. He stood shakily and went off back along the path to the tarn, glancing about for the silver chevin and spotted finnock that were likely laying about

***

Rocks and gravel clattered against the larger stones and boulders as he spun and flailed about. His brown robes were cast down onto the floor of the cave and in the pale light his naked body began to change form. His hands slammed against the rock wall as his the bones in his fingers snapped and lengthened into long black claws. He cried out as his legs were broken and his knees twisted about, reformed into those of a wolf with large paws and a stiff bristly tail. His ribs were crushed and then pushed outwards anew as he grew larger and thick black hair covered his entire body. Finally his skull cracked and his head grew like a beast, long ears and a wiry mane, sharp and yellowed teeth from which hung saliva like spider webs, and large predatory eyes tinged with crimson.

Crumpling to the ground he clawed at the dirt and stones, biting rocks and roots madly as his transformation finally came about. Anfauglir rushed out of the cave, running quickly on all fours up to a prominent spur jutting out of the mountain. He stopped at the top of the slanted stone and as his cursed form was framed by the Red Moon, he threw back his head and let forth a tremendous howl.The blood red moon brought a yearning to taste flesh once more, driving his mind to madness and creating a hunger that could not be sated till he quenched it in blood.

A sound made his tall pointed ears twitch and drew his attention south towards the foothills. An animal clearly, something hooved judging by the sound it made clattering down the rocks. A sheep? A goat? Whatever it was it did not belong here, not in these mountains, not in his domain, but wait...something else. Softer footfalls along the ground, running, running away along with the animal. He sniffed the air, it was blowing down the mountain and only carried the smell of dirt and water. Leaping down the stones he scrambled over the rocky ridges and tried to make his way towards the sounds he heard, and hopefully catch the scent of what or who he heard.

Aida stopped dead, and gulped as she heard the howling. She watched the donkey clatter off into the distance to safety, it was funny, the animal was very fast when she wanted to be. She watched as the donkey ran into a narrow cave in the distance. Smart. But there was no point running like this, for Aida. If the creature had caught her scent, it would already be on its way and she doubted she too could fit into a narrow crack and lie there happily until dawn. Plus, the hair of the creature, if she could snag some would be a rare ingredient for all kinds of potions, not to mention expensive. She took out her tweezers and looked at them closely. Was this wise? Probably not. But there had been crazier things done.

She licked her finger and held it up to the wind, positioning herself downwind as she picked a comfortable looking tree to climb into. Once up there, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, casting a circle of rough white runes around her. They made a quiet, peaceful hum and glowed very slightly on top of the grass and rocks. At least that would stop her being mauled to death immmediately. Crossing her legs, and armed with her tweezers, Aida waited.