Post by Directed by M. Night Shyamalan on Jan 14, 2013 18:36:14 GMT -5
This is an excerpt from the young life of my wildcat character Phineas.
The hot southern sun gave no mercy as it beat down on the court yard and surrounding facilities. The hot air wavered as it rose off the simmering masonry, the ancient stone hot to the touch. Worse off were the occupants of the land, soldiers tramping about in full armour, mail jingling and weapons clanging. Sweat drenched their fur and stung their eyes, but not one made a noise in complain. Sergeants, as brutal and ceaseless as the burning sun, cursed and screamed them on, not showing the faintest sign of fatigue.
For the guards stationed inside the mighty palace it was more tolerable. They were not training, they only wore summer uniforms. But even in that they suffered, and they could only pray for relief from duty or for clouds to come and deliver them. But they stayed silent, for that was how they were. From the outside of the courtyard suddenly bloodcurdling screaming ensued, followed swiftly by the echoing clangs of steel. Not a soul moved, for this was the way of the wildcats.
Sounds of battle soon faded away, and through the gate came a noble, wiping vermillion stains from his sword. Two guards silently rotated on their feet and headed out the gate to clean up. The noble went on his way through the courtyard and into the palace itself. Not a soul spoke. The great oak doors opened and shut with a mighty thud. The coppery tang of blood began to drift into the courtyard, amplified by the sweltering heat. For this, this was the land of the wildcats.
Lord Caje-Rawg of the Blooded Fur had seen it all before. Of course he had. He was The Patriarch of the Southern Isle, the Sovereign of all cats. He had seen many foreign ambassadors in his court, and he had seen their horrified reactions at such violence. He dismissed it of course, they knew nothing. This was the land of the wildcats, and warfare was imbedded in their very marrow. This was a land where honour lead to war, where one noble insulted another and whole armies clashed. It was a land of strife and conflict, where the Patriarch had to defend himself at every turn, for any cat who could outfight the Patriarch deserved the right to rule.
In his lifetime, he had witnessed no less then nine rebellions against the the royal house. He had personally dealt with five of them, and three cases duelling the leaders himself. On the large scale things were quiet, and had been so for nearly a decade; now the biggest sources of conflict were petty squabbles amongst the nobility like which had just occurred outside the courtyard. Of course the peace wouldn't last long, massive warfare was bound to happen soon. The population would increase, feuds would rise, and eventually it would boil over.
But of course that was a matter for later, and the Patriarch tended to deal with conflict when it happened, not before. What was of current interest was the scene playing out below in the courtyard. A side door had just opened, and from within came two smaller wildcats, both wearing the small crimson left-shoulder capes that signified royalty. And as they progressed across the courtyard and the Patriarch listened in, his interest grew and grew.
“...take it then! Take it as your kind does, let your back only face then will you?” The hissing voice curled Phineas's ears, and it took all his willpower to ignore the dangerous words slide. He had an appointment for combat instruction with Churr-Major, and the tough old veteran would take it out on his hide -crown prince or not- if he was late. And in any case, Phineas was an oddity among wildcats. He displayed a bit more logic than his brethren, not screaming and leaping at every insult like many would. It was why he'd stayed alive more in his younger years while his older siblings had killed each other.
“Coward!” The voice cut all thought in his brain down to utter silence. The air stilled, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Silence followed, and then the voice came to life again, loud and arrogant. “Yes, I tag you coward! As yellow and mouse as the lowliest slave! I challenge you to look me in the eye, plant-eating dung!” The voice died off, echoing around the courtyard. Time seemed to have come to a standstill as not even the guards dared breathe. All eyes were upon the young prince, watching him waiting for his reaction. Slowly, silently, he turned around and stared his mocker in the eye. The silence was deafening.
“Sword!” He yelled at his attendant, and a young otter ran up, sheathed sword in hand. Fury was pouring through Phineas's mind as he grabbed the weapon and winged it from its sheath with a metallic ring. Wielding it in one paw, he marched forward in strong, angry steps until he was but fifteen feet from his brother. “Mouse! Draw steel or be slain as a vermin!” He shouter fiercely. An eager metallic ring was his reply as the lower prince whipped out his sword and took a stance, eyes burning. Phineas tensed just as the attack began.
The courtyard echoed with the sky-splitting screams of fury from the two wildcats as they closed the distance in a moments flash, leaping at each other in bloodlust. Sparks flew and metal shrieked as the two blades clashed, mixing with the animal-like snarls and growls from the two combatants.
The site was terrifying and enthralling simultaneously. No event in existence could match the absolute ferocity and brutality of wildcats battling. Their swords, great longswords over half their height with great wide blades would have taken any other creature much effort and strain to wield effectively, but here they moved in blurred movements, striking thrice every passing second, humming as the rent through the air which seemed to stand still around them.
Phineas moved slowly in a circularly pattern, considering his options with one part of his mind while dealing with the blows of his brother. As the initial surge of rage boiled down with each blow, both fighters slowed down their strikes, conserving stamina and becoming more tactful with their engagement.
Phineas slowly gave ground, retreating gradually towards the east courtyard wall. They neared, and Phineas began to feint weariness, slowing down his fighting and appearing more and more fatigued. His brother increased in speed only, attacking more quickly and brutally. His back was now fifteen feet from the wall, and Phineas began to change.
He circled, slowly rotating around. His brother stepped back and suddenly swung broadly. Phineas ducked beneath it and immediately charged forward, swinging his blade across at his brothers neck. Steel screamed as, quick as light, his brothers sword crossed his, their faces just inches apart. Growling, Phineas suddenly screamed out, a nightmarish mixture of pure fury and hatred incarnated in one noise, and shoved forward with his blade.
Unfazed, his brother yelled back, the sound deafening to Phineas's sensitive ears. Bracing himself against his brothers return shoves, he forces back, locking into a brutal battle of strength. Ears back and fangs bared, his brother snapped at Phineas face, missing by inches. Then, as the battle of strength reached its peek, Phineas kicked him in the leg.
His brother shrieked in agony as his shin cracked. His strength broke and he stumbled back into the wall, swinging wildly in wide arcs at Phineas, the tip of his blade neatly opening a wide line across the princes cheek. Ignoring the flare of pain, Phineas stomped forward and caught his brothers flailing blade with his own, pinning it against the wall. His brother lunged forward, jaws open, aiming for Phineas neck. Phineas jerked aside and slammed the pommel of his hilt right with all his might, colliding with his brothers outreached jaw with a sickening crack. His brothers head whipped right and smacked into the stone, stunning him. With a quick wrench of his sword, Phineas knocked his foes blade from his paw and, with his left paw, grabbed his brother neck and hurled him forward onto the ground, where he proceeded to kick him brutally in the hindquarters.
The cool point of Phineas's sword rested gently between his brother shoulder blades. His brother didn't move asides from the faint noise that constituted his breathing. But then, slowly, his head rotated on the baking stone to face Phineas, right eye glaring venomous hatred. No words came forth. And so Phineas gripped his sword with both hands, held it high above his head, and swung down with every ounce of his strength.
The report of steel biting into stone punctured the air. Kicking away the head of his brother, Phineas looked up and around the courtyard, then strode off towards his lesson without a word. The otter hurried over, a blank look on his face as he took the sword retreated off to clean the messy blade. Wordlessly, two guards peeled off from their posts and silently headed for the dead royals body. They did not move it, but just draped a vermillion cloth over the entirety of the corpse. The head they left exposed.
As Phineas passed through the courtyard gate towards his lesson, he noticed the posture of the two guards straighten more, and they dipped their heads slightly. The prince gave no notice of them, and strode out the gates and towards his teacher.
From his balcony, Lord Caje nodded with approval. Phineas had fought well against Prince Aleen. He had two brothers now, both his younger by at least four years. It may well be that one day one of them would challenge and slay the crown prince, but that was in the future. And to the Patriarch of the wildcats, it would simply be dealt with when it came upon them. He turned around and retreated back into the cool air of the palace. Outside a party of squirrel and otter slaves gathered and carefully lifted the body and head onto the stretcher and made sure they were covered. Then the quietly lifted it onto their shoulders and left. No one came to clean the blood. It would remain until the walls of the castle crumbled down around it.
For this, this was the land of the wildcats.
The hot southern sun gave no mercy as it beat down on the court yard and surrounding facilities. The hot air wavered as it rose off the simmering masonry, the ancient stone hot to the touch. Worse off were the occupants of the land, soldiers tramping about in full armour, mail jingling and weapons clanging. Sweat drenched their fur and stung their eyes, but not one made a noise in complain. Sergeants, as brutal and ceaseless as the burning sun, cursed and screamed them on, not showing the faintest sign of fatigue.
For the guards stationed inside the mighty palace it was more tolerable. They were not training, they only wore summer uniforms. But even in that they suffered, and they could only pray for relief from duty or for clouds to come and deliver them. But they stayed silent, for that was how they were. From the outside of the courtyard suddenly bloodcurdling screaming ensued, followed swiftly by the echoing clangs of steel. Not a soul moved, for this was the way of the wildcats.
Sounds of battle soon faded away, and through the gate came a noble, wiping vermillion stains from his sword. Two guards silently rotated on their feet and headed out the gate to clean up. The noble went on his way through the courtyard and into the palace itself. Not a soul spoke. The great oak doors opened and shut with a mighty thud. The coppery tang of blood began to drift into the courtyard, amplified by the sweltering heat. For this, this was the land of the wildcats.
Lord Caje-Rawg of the Blooded Fur had seen it all before. Of course he had. He was The Patriarch of the Southern Isle, the Sovereign of all cats. He had seen many foreign ambassadors in his court, and he had seen their horrified reactions at such violence. He dismissed it of course, they knew nothing. This was the land of the wildcats, and warfare was imbedded in their very marrow. This was a land where honour lead to war, where one noble insulted another and whole armies clashed. It was a land of strife and conflict, where the Patriarch had to defend himself at every turn, for any cat who could outfight the Patriarch deserved the right to rule.
In his lifetime, he had witnessed no less then nine rebellions against the the royal house. He had personally dealt with five of them, and three cases duelling the leaders himself. On the large scale things were quiet, and had been so for nearly a decade; now the biggest sources of conflict were petty squabbles amongst the nobility like which had just occurred outside the courtyard. Of course the peace wouldn't last long, massive warfare was bound to happen soon. The population would increase, feuds would rise, and eventually it would boil over.
But of course that was a matter for later, and the Patriarch tended to deal with conflict when it happened, not before. What was of current interest was the scene playing out below in the courtyard. A side door had just opened, and from within came two smaller wildcats, both wearing the small crimson left-shoulder capes that signified royalty. And as they progressed across the courtyard and the Patriarch listened in, his interest grew and grew.
“...take it then! Take it as your kind does, let your back only face then will you?” The hissing voice curled Phineas's ears, and it took all his willpower to ignore the dangerous words slide. He had an appointment for combat instruction with Churr-Major, and the tough old veteran would take it out on his hide -crown prince or not- if he was late. And in any case, Phineas was an oddity among wildcats. He displayed a bit more logic than his brethren, not screaming and leaping at every insult like many would. It was why he'd stayed alive more in his younger years while his older siblings had killed each other.
“Coward!” The voice cut all thought in his brain down to utter silence. The air stilled, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Silence followed, and then the voice came to life again, loud and arrogant. “Yes, I tag you coward! As yellow and mouse as the lowliest slave! I challenge you to look me in the eye, plant-eating dung!” The voice died off, echoing around the courtyard. Time seemed to have come to a standstill as not even the guards dared breathe. All eyes were upon the young prince, watching him waiting for his reaction. Slowly, silently, he turned around and stared his mocker in the eye. The silence was deafening.
“Sword!” He yelled at his attendant, and a young otter ran up, sheathed sword in hand. Fury was pouring through Phineas's mind as he grabbed the weapon and winged it from its sheath with a metallic ring. Wielding it in one paw, he marched forward in strong, angry steps until he was but fifteen feet from his brother. “Mouse! Draw steel or be slain as a vermin!” He shouter fiercely. An eager metallic ring was his reply as the lower prince whipped out his sword and took a stance, eyes burning. Phineas tensed just as the attack began.
The courtyard echoed with the sky-splitting screams of fury from the two wildcats as they closed the distance in a moments flash, leaping at each other in bloodlust. Sparks flew and metal shrieked as the two blades clashed, mixing with the animal-like snarls and growls from the two combatants.
The site was terrifying and enthralling simultaneously. No event in existence could match the absolute ferocity and brutality of wildcats battling. Their swords, great longswords over half their height with great wide blades would have taken any other creature much effort and strain to wield effectively, but here they moved in blurred movements, striking thrice every passing second, humming as the rent through the air which seemed to stand still around them.
Phineas moved slowly in a circularly pattern, considering his options with one part of his mind while dealing with the blows of his brother. As the initial surge of rage boiled down with each blow, both fighters slowed down their strikes, conserving stamina and becoming more tactful with their engagement.
Phineas slowly gave ground, retreating gradually towards the east courtyard wall. They neared, and Phineas began to feint weariness, slowing down his fighting and appearing more and more fatigued. His brother increased in speed only, attacking more quickly and brutally. His back was now fifteen feet from the wall, and Phineas began to change.
He circled, slowly rotating around. His brother stepped back and suddenly swung broadly. Phineas ducked beneath it and immediately charged forward, swinging his blade across at his brothers neck. Steel screamed as, quick as light, his brothers sword crossed his, their faces just inches apart. Growling, Phineas suddenly screamed out, a nightmarish mixture of pure fury and hatred incarnated in one noise, and shoved forward with his blade.
Unfazed, his brother yelled back, the sound deafening to Phineas's sensitive ears. Bracing himself against his brothers return shoves, he forces back, locking into a brutal battle of strength. Ears back and fangs bared, his brother snapped at Phineas face, missing by inches. Then, as the battle of strength reached its peek, Phineas kicked him in the leg.
His brother shrieked in agony as his shin cracked. His strength broke and he stumbled back into the wall, swinging wildly in wide arcs at Phineas, the tip of his blade neatly opening a wide line across the princes cheek. Ignoring the flare of pain, Phineas stomped forward and caught his brothers flailing blade with his own, pinning it against the wall. His brother lunged forward, jaws open, aiming for Phineas neck. Phineas jerked aside and slammed the pommel of his hilt right with all his might, colliding with his brothers outreached jaw with a sickening crack. His brothers head whipped right and smacked into the stone, stunning him. With a quick wrench of his sword, Phineas knocked his foes blade from his paw and, with his left paw, grabbed his brother neck and hurled him forward onto the ground, where he proceeded to kick him brutally in the hindquarters.
The cool point of Phineas's sword rested gently between his brother shoulder blades. His brother didn't move asides from the faint noise that constituted his breathing. But then, slowly, his head rotated on the baking stone to face Phineas, right eye glaring venomous hatred. No words came forth. And so Phineas gripped his sword with both hands, held it high above his head, and swung down with every ounce of his strength.
The report of steel biting into stone punctured the air. Kicking away the head of his brother, Phineas looked up and around the courtyard, then strode off towards his lesson without a word. The otter hurried over, a blank look on his face as he took the sword retreated off to clean the messy blade. Wordlessly, two guards peeled off from their posts and silently headed for the dead royals body. They did not move it, but just draped a vermillion cloth over the entirety of the corpse. The head they left exposed.
As Phineas passed through the courtyard gate towards his lesson, he noticed the posture of the two guards straighten more, and they dipped their heads slightly. The prince gave no notice of them, and strode out the gates and towards his teacher.
From his balcony, Lord Caje nodded with approval. Phineas had fought well against Prince Aleen. He had two brothers now, both his younger by at least four years. It may well be that one day one of them would challenge and slay the crown prince, but that was in the future. And to the Patriarch of the wildcats, it would simply be dealt with when it came upon them. He turned around and retreated back into the cool air of the palace. Outside a party of squirrel and otter slaves gathered and carefully lifted the body and head onto the stretcher and made sure they were covered. Then the quietly lifted it onto their shoulders and left. No one came to clean the blood. It would remain until the walls of the castle crumbled down around it.
For this, this was the land of the wildcats.