Chapter 212: CHPT 212: Mongrels.
Unknown date, 2240
Darkness had fallen. He'd learned to love and hate the darkness. When it came it was only because the beatings— the hunts, were over. But even then, when the darkness fell in its black stillness, it functioned as a reminder that the violence would only return. The thunder, the icy rainfall on his skin, the windstorms that battered his sensitive ears, the smell of blood, his face. It would always be waiting for him.
But for now, he was alone. Left to tend to his wounds and try to forget that they would return.
He trotted across the tall grass wetted with his— and their, blood in a wounded gait as he headed to the small river in the forest surrounding the field. The river, a place he resided to after every torturous session of violence. Every brutal beating that he was at fault for, for his own failure. No, not his failure. Not his fault.
"…..Clllllaude." He growled in a mixture of man and animal as he shifted from his Lupine form to that of the battered and wounded teen beneath.
He all but fell to his knees as he reached the river, coughing up blood and fighting the urge to throw up the weak and foul flesh of humans he'd been fed routinely by the psychotic enigma, Jack.
As much as his body wanted to remove the foul and rotten human flesh and organs filling his stomach, he forced it down. He'd forced it all down. He'd eat the weak if it meant strength. That's what the weak were there for anyway. Groveling filth that can be used as stepping stones.
After his usual dry heaving fit ended, he scooped up a handful of icy river water with his bloody knuckled hands and threw it on his face. The splash was energizing and also aggravating to his already healing wounds, reminding him that some would heal before they returned, and others would be made worse by fang and claw.
He ignored the pain and began taking ravenous gulps of water like it would someday disappear…..he could never be sure, the forest changed more often than not somehow. But the river always remained. Always there to greet him after his beatings to remind him of how he looked. Which was catastrophically different to say the least.
No more pretty young blonde with hair that looked like it was tended to by the gods, that was for sure. Samuel looked like an entirely new person.
His once natural blond hair that was perfectly faded around the back, sides and longer on the top had all grown into a tattered and dreaded mop of once blonde filth. He had no concept of time, but what felt like his first week was impossible to sleep through, so he lost hair. Bald patches shown through all over his scalp while other portions were way longer than the rest creating a look that matched his mental state. But his vanity remained, someone of his stock would never be "ugly", so, he made sure to meticulously hand brush it in a backwards sweeping motion behind his ears and down his neck in an attempted clean look. His once sun tanned and regal appearance now had a disheveled and sickly twist added to it.
Here in the forest clearing It was always midnight, only ever made different by the booming claps of thunder or repeated taps of rainfall that came whenever Dolion's roar shook the earth. Due to this, his skin hadn't been blessed by the sun in a very long time, leaving it a ghostly shade of paleness that rivaled anything he'd ever seen. Thus making the claw marks, scabs and bruises on his face strikingly easy to see. Even his once sharp and regal even bridged nose was battered and uneven from constantly being broken and fused back together wrong with his unnatural rate of healing.
But, a broken face and mind wasn't all that changed, one of his greatest changes took place with his once beautifully built physique. As a boy he began his training, priding himself on reaching the hulking and robust build of the Knights like Rory Legrand and his Guild of legendary frontline warriors, and he'd made it. But his new life changed all that faster than he could even realize. His many changes and diet consisting strictly of fatless dirty humans left him gangly and starved looking. Yet, what he'd become had forced him to have the muscles required to hunt and kill—leaving him in a state of looking as if his pale beaten skin was painted over pure muscle.
To him, he looked similarly to how his father described the Blood Starved. Something that was once human and then changed into a Vampire on a frenzied hunt for blood.
Changed. That was the theme of his life lately. Brutality, torture, fear and change. Changed in mind. Changed in body. And changed in race.
He'd become something else. Something inhuman. The same thing as Jack and Dolion and the others. Something he was learning more about constantly whenever he was being beaten— and reminded of why.
He'd become a Lupine of Remus. A race of Shape-Shifter warriors with their origins tied to the rise of someone named Romulus, and their leader, Remus's, own unique magical power. Samuel watched them all speak as if they were gods, yet they hid and stalked through cities like rats. Maybe they had something planned. Maybe Jack's knowing smiles and sly nature was more than just a front.
All he knew for sure was, the reason he was being beaten and broken for all eternity was because of one individual.
"Claude…."
The antithesis of his life, and the antithesis of his race. Claude, the last Lupine of Romulus. A title Jack jokingly gave the boy before Dolion angrily reminded him of the impossibility of it.
From what Samuel had heard in between growls and being bitten or thrown across the forest, the Lupines of Romulus are a distantly similar race that could've been one with them if not for Romulus's weak minded goals and making them all into an abomination. They talk as if the Lupines of Romulus are vastly different despite looking so similar. And they use a handful of words with similar meanings to describe them. Fallen abominations, mutts, mongrels. They visibly hate, and also feared them making him question their power as an enemy race.
All he got in response was a law. The Law of Remus.
"Any time you engage in battle with the get of Romulus, do not come back empty handed. Or your brothers and sisters will have your throat for supper."
They said Samuel was special— he already knew that. They said he was needed for something bigger than himself. So they excluded him from the primal law. But that didn't mean he was excluded from torture— something some would say was worse than death.
He wouldn't know though. He already felt dead. The only thing keeping the purple Dark Knight's flame lit within him was the urge to find Claude. And he'd get there by surviving this torment and figuring out how to get back to SkyHaven. He'd do whatever. He'd step on the weak, eat them and use their partially consumed corpses as stepping stones to reach the door that would eventually lead him to Claude Grey.
But first things first. He must survive. And then he'd do whatever and kill whatever is surrounding the last Lupine of Romulus to reach him.
VWOOMP!
The opening of the Tan— Deviant, whatever he was in, opened. What followed was the scents of fear, anger and a wretched voice that made the hairs on his arms raise abruptly before thickening into Lupine fur.
"Heya kiddo! We've got live bait for you today! A fat and fresh human Night Runner! Hahahahahh!!…"
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