"The Tale of the Twisted Beast"

The Tale of the Twisted Beast

As told by Alexii Augstawne

My sore feet have taken me across many lengths of land…

This wayward soul searching for belonging.

Those whom know nothing of me know now I am Alexii Augstawne. Sometimes referred to as “One-Eye” or “The Highland Wolf”; I am a Ranger as were the fathers of my family before me.

I traveled with those whom fled from the West. I carried the sick and dying on my own growing shoulders. I watched in horror as the armies clung to our shadows, chasing us down like vermin.

When I left I was little more than a pup, barely able to even grasp a blade. When I arrived here it was in the body of a Beta, one who spent his years growing on the path to freedom. Though the years one of the only things which kept our morale up was to use the age-old traditions of storytelling and tale weaving. This would pass the time and serve as a reprieve from the chaos which crashed down among our heads.

I tell you now of “The Beast in the Twisted Grove” a story passed to me by one of the hunters of the former pack Augstawne.

In the home of the pack, the trees grew tall…proclaiming the glory of Enelne to the sky above. Save for a single grove, which twisted about the land like a mass of serpents in the humid mating months. All manner of Oak, Fir, and Alder grew throughout the grove. But unlike the straight and tall which dotted the mountains face, those in the valley knotted and furled. Their surfaces black with rot and decay.

There was told a tale of a lad who sought to fix the problem, planting a moss on the trees which was to pull the darkness from the wood like a sponge. But this too failed, for the wood corrupted the growth turning it a brilliant shade of crimson before causing it to fall off and rot along the woodland floor. Another sought to plant healthy trees from outside the valley in order to promote good growth, but these too twisted and turned as they grew.

Than one day a vision was had, of a clawed terror with soulless eyes and fierce teeth. This beast was shown in a den at the center of the grove, the structure itself made from the many twisted tree trunks. Hanging from the wood in gruesome decorative fashion, were the skulls and bones of a myriad of animals. It was then they knew it was this monster causing the blight in the grove; it was this monster that was de-facing Enelne’s garden here in the mountains shadow.

A cadre of elite hunters, belonging to any pack that would lend, was formed to combat this creature and purge it from the lands. Among them, many warriors from the Highland pack, as well as scholars from the city, and am elder shaman was placed to lead the charge. It were to be a hard three days journey to the groves center, it would be easier if not for the twisted trunks which litter the pathway creating large obstacles which must be avoided. Few hunters fell along the way caught in the quick-mud, trapped by woodland fae, and four were taken by the beast itself.

Dawn of the third day, they have been traveling with no sleep. Their feet grow weary, but the shaman’s chants keep their minds alert waiting for the coming storm. As the sun peaked over the mountain’s tip a shaft of light bathed the creatures den in a soft glow. The light itself must have stirred the beast from slumber, it crept from the shelter walking on two legs and using a massive skeletal tail as balance. It roared its protest to the early morning light, causing many of the bones decorating its home to rumble with vibrations.

All reached for their closest weapon, the two slowest were the first taken by the beast’s powerful claws. A third was taken before he could dispatch his skefne, the weapon falling uselessly to the ground at the dead hunter’s feet. The shaman himself barely escaped injury, taking his robe off and throwing it over the beasts head. As the shaman chanted weaving his fingers in an intricate pattern the garment erupted in a blaze of holy fire. The blue-white flames spreading quickly over the beasts mottled fur.

At that moment the hunters moved in, skefne were thrown and zovens drawn as they closed in on the monster. Two more were struck in a single blow of the beasts powerful tail, but the overwhelming strength of the combined hunters was too much…The creature died. As it fell to the cold earth the holy fire which was constrained to its face and head spread over the entire body, consuming the terrible thing.

After its death the cadre decided to explore the den of the beast, searching for what caused the plague in the grove. Find it; they did, in a massive lake of blood under the den. Along the lakes rim, dozens of little cubs drank deeply from the bloody mire. Set in the center of the gruesome sight, the carcass of a dead creature identical to the one just slain. The shaman knew what must be done, the place was to be purified by fire and he would need the strength of the combined hunters to do so.

Taking hands at the dens mouth the seven remaining members of the cadre chanted in unison with the shaman, mimicking his every vocal pattern and pronunciations. A glowing orb of blue light started to collect above the group, turning and forming as if from the air itself. Like a ray the orb shot out from the cadre, aimed straight at the lakes center and the vile altar therein. Awkwardly not a sound was heard, but the complete absence of sound was unsettling. As it struck the decrepit skeleton the blue light erupted into a pillar of flame which spread throughout the den seeking out the monsters offspring.

The shaman yelled “We’re not worthy to witness the glory of Enelne striking down these abominations. We should leave before we are blinded by her holy light.” This broke the un-blinking stares of the hunters. As they made their way back to their homelands they could see subtle changes in the landscape, the crimson moss showed sections of yellow-green surfaces. As well, many of the gnarled and twisted trunks had a few straight and thick branches, proclaimed Enelne’s returned grip on the grove.

The cadre returned as heroes and agents of Enelne herself. Unfortunately their homecoming was short lived and all died a mere four days after they returned. A funeral procession departed from each of the pack homes of the survivors, the victorious dead were to be buried in the grove itself. Their graves a final homage to the goddess.

Praise to ye Enelne for allowing me the gift of the story.

Many stories were spoken to me by this same hunter along the journey eastward. Upon our arrival I noticed the pack of my fathers, like the pack of many fathers, had withered down to a few stalwart hunters…This man was among them.

But those hunters were more than enough to entice a roaming band of Velkan Slavers into attacking us as we entered these strange lands.

In that strike… died the storyteller, among many, taking his wealth of knowledge with him. The tale was left to ring in my ears that day, as I have left it to ring in yours on this one.

I thank you for allowing me to share one of his wonderful tales which he imparted to me.