Post by Jareth on Sept 1, 2018 0:08:21 GMT -6
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On, and on, and further on he had traveled, until his weary paws grew raw and bloodied with the constant travel and his tired bones became heavy beyond all measure. He did not walk so proudly anymore, no; neither was his coat gleaming and soft as it had once been. He was in disrepair, yes. Disarray. Discord. Utter and total dishevelment.
He wasn't actually entirely certain that last one was a word, but it sounded close enough to count and he really didn't care besides.
No disease ate at the Goblin King. No hateful symptom of age or enduring streak of rotten luck in hunting had any culpability in his wretched state. At four years of age, he was in the prime of his life yet, and he had traveled through enough verdant lands that lay yet unclaimed by meddling lesser wolves that taking prey for himself had been a trifling matter. Indeed, he was not underfed even now; physically, he was quite healthy, but for three burden of his weariness.
He had enjoyed foul luck in the western lands, enough so that some time in quiet thought - once the storm of his outrage had at last run its course - had led him to the conclusion that it was time, for now, to leave that part of Anikira altogether, and strike out for the east, where he would be unknown and so perhaps more successful.
His disgruntlement, yes, that was the true source of his unkempt fur and faintly trembling, exhausted body. It was the true reason why he had wandered so far, so unceasingly so. He could scarcely sleep for the constant hounding of the memory of his many recent failures. His paws had itched whenever he lingered too long - his whole body became like a thunderclap without culmination whenever he came to rest.
He found water eventually - boiling, poisoned water, too near the geyser fields to be worth the risk of drinking. The heat it gave off was soothing, though - and so, with a beleaguered sigh, the dethroned king allowed himself to fall gracefully beside the water for another stolen moment of respite.
notes: Bewp
tagged: OPEN
word count: 360
Wolf Stock
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On, and on, and further on he had traveled, until his weary paws grew raw and bloodied with the constant travel and his tired bones became heavy beyond all measure. He did not walk so proudly anymore, no; neither was his coat gleaming and soft as it had once been. He was in disrepair, yes. Disarray. Discord. Utter and total dishevelment.
He wasn't actually entirely certain that last one was a word, but it sounded close enough to count and he really didn't care besides.
No disease ate at the Goblin King. No hateful symptom of age or enduring streak of rotten luck in hunting had any culpability in his wretched state. At four years of age, he was in the prime of his life yet, and he had traveled through enough verdant lands that lay yet unclaimed by meddling lesser wolves that taking prey for himself had been a trifling matter. Indeed, he was not underfed even now; physically, he was quite healthy, but for three burden of his weariness.
He had enjoyed foul luck in the western lands, enough so that some time in quiet thought - once the storm of his outrage had at last run its course - had led him to the conclusion that it was time, for now, to leave that part of Anikira altogether, and strike out for the east, where he would be unknown and so perhaps more successful.
His disgruntlement, yes, that was the true source of his unkempt fur and faintly trembling, exhausted body. It was the true reason why he had wandered so far, so unceasingly so. He could scarcely sleep for the constant hounding of the memory of his many recent failures. His paws had itched whenever he lingered too long - his whole body became like a thunderclap without culmination whenever he came to rest.
He found water eventually - boiling, poisoned water, too near the geyser fields to be worth the risk of drinking. The heat it gave off was soothing, though - and so, with a beleaguered sigh, the dethroned king allowed himself to fall gracefully beside the water for another stolen moment of respite.
notes: Bewp
tagged: OPEN
word count: 360
Wolf Stock
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Valkyrie 
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