11-03-2018, 01:20 AM
[align=center][div style="0px; width:400px; height:auto; text-align: justify; font-size: 8pt; line-height:13px;"]The Wolf and Little Red / i wrote this for a school asignment and i really like it. the prompt was we had to humanize a fairytale villan
There was a time many centuries ago when creatures of the dark roamed free of persecution but once the church rose to power and began its crusade of the countryside and all its inhabitants, those from the dark became hunted, as they were doomed for damnation and had no place on this Earth in the eyes of the church. The church employed a special group of men they called Apostles in order to remove those unwanted. The Apostles went village to village and sought out those of the dark. Those who changed from a man to wolf against their own actions on the full moon. Those whose song enticed people to visit them for dinner or for marital advice. Those who worshiped the elements and the goddess nature, using crystals and stones instead of Bibles and monetary church taxes. Over multiple generations, The Apostles slaughtered them mercilessly in the name of God until the collective was so thin that receding into hiding was the only alternative. Generations passed with the need for the Apostles ever lasting, as there was no way to be rid of every abomination despite how many slaughters the church sponsored.
Within the ranks of The Apostles, there grew families of esteemed stature who boasted about their ability to kill the creatures of dark, often specializing in one species. One such family were the Rubrums. The Rubrum family specialized in the destruction of those the church called nightwolves (amongst the Apostles themselves, the common slang term was werewolf). The patriarch of the family, Lothar Rubrum who one of the very first Apostles, fathered two sons: Rald and Brune. Rald, the eldest and a more gentle soul, died following his father’s path as an Apostle. Brune, the other younger brother who was darker in nature and more cunning, after serving his time as an Apostle, fathered a son just as was done before him. That son was christened Hewett Rubrumâ€â€Little Red.
Hewett began his training in preparation to join the Apostles as young as nine Gregorian years of age. Growing up in a forest cladden mansion, Hewett, surrounded every moment of every day by the severed mounted heads of nightwolves, became numb to the idea than any of the night creatures were any more than soulless scourges that needed to be put down. Once he became an Apostle, Hewett gave no second thought to his orders and rose in the ranks, continuing to carry the Rubrum family status as the best werewolf hunters in the land. He lived and breathed the mission of the Apostles: “sustentor adflixisti ut malum in Dei lumine†or “slaying evil with God’s lightâ€Â. Once he grew to be the age of twenty Gregorian years, he was a full-fledged member and commander in the Apostles, specializing in the hunting of werewolves. He earned the nickname The Huntsman.
When the creatures of dark were forced into hiding, they were also forced to appear human; forced to destroy their culture and traditions, forced to kill their past. Similar to most nightwolves, Adolpha had grown up fearing the Apostles. She locked her family up every full moon and once she reached fourteen Gregorian moons, she locked up herself too. Every nightwolf participated in such measures to conceal their curse, doing anything in their power to stop from changing. There had been multiple experimental mutilations, many long trips to strange humans who claimed to be allied with new and unknown knowledge, all in an attempt to become as human as possible. The nightwolves had been taught to hate themselves for who they were and how they were born. Adolpha’s family had tried to protect her from hating herself but no matter the strength of their efforts, there was always lingering self-loathing behind her mask of stable self-worth. She was inducted into the ideology of the Astles being the spawn of every evil force the God Mother’s enemy Darkness ever created. Adolpha had watched family members and friends and friends of friends get dragged away or beheaded on sight by visiting Apostoles. There was a bone-deep hatred for those men. How many daydreams she had lost herself in where she murdered the Apostles just as they had murdered her kind. It was only when she was eighteen Gregorian years did her arc of negligence and daydreaming meet reality. The day she met the Apostle.
Hewett, having gone to the market to get sweets for his grandmother who also lived in the Rubrum family mansion, was on his way to back through the pine forest. Draped in his family’s well known red cloak, he was suddenly brought out of his observance of the quiet forest when he almost walked into what appeared to be a girl struggling out of a tree. He, being the manner representative of his family that he was always taught to be, called to the girl, not knowing who she truly was.
“Oh miss! Miss!†he called, ignoring her body language that was a clear indication she was trying to ignore him.
“No sir I’m quite alright-†she said before turning around, her eyes immediately going to the red cloak, then to the eyes of famed Huntsmen
Adolpha, having no true reason to be in the pine woods, had no inkling of running into the thing she feared most. She had only heard stories of the famed red huntsmen. He had slain hundred of werewolves, the clan he came from had slain thousands of nightwolves. The Apostles in red were feared the most by werewolves due to their disposition to never give up a hunt. They would track a pack of nightwolves across the countryside until the pack could run no more and accepted their fate. Adolpha’s nightmares were plagued with the red Apostles and there one stood, right in front of her. She took a breath and steadied her heartbeat. She could smell the market on him but she could also smell fire kindling and old stone. She looked at his hands, imagining the blood of her oldest brother and her sister in law wedged between his nails. He didn’t deserve to have hands, she thought, hiding her balled fist in the pocket of her apron.
“Are you returning from the market?†she inquired, eyeing the small satchel he was carrying.
“Why yes, I am bringing sweets to my grandmother. She is home alone and quiet lonely†the Huntsman said. Adolpha held back a smile, a plan already forming in her mind. If the famed Huntsmen was this stupid, she could maybe get the revenge all nightwolves would want.
“Do you live close by?†she asked, using the kindest voice he could muster.
“My family's house, Mount Rubrum, is just beyond the way.†he answered her. Adolpha almost choked Rubrum. He was a red Apostle. If the coak wasn’t a clear indication, that name was.
“If you are bringing your grandmother sweets you must have gotten her Hans the baker’s famed rødgrød?†she asked, praying that the Huntsmen would take the bait.
“Oh no. I must have forgotten that. It is worth going back for?â€Â
“Oh yes. Hans’ rødgrød is definitely worth going back for.†she said, using every ounce of persuasion she had. The Huntsman looks down as his bag, as if judging whether it was a good idea to return before saying
“I guess you must be right. I shall go get Hans’ rødgrød.†The Huntsman turned around and walked off towards the market, has red cloak swishing behind him. Adolpha said a quick prayer to the GodMother before springing in the direction the Huntsman had originally been traveling, making her want to Mount Rubrum.
The mansion was larger than she had ever pictured. It held the aura of a wood and stone castle high up on a hill, looking down upon its peasants. Adolpha made her way to the front and proceeded to scout the side, eyeing a singular open window. Using whatever gifts being a nightwolf granted her, she took a running start and punched off the wall, abbing the very edge of the window. She hauled herself up and after adjusting her bearings, been overwhelmed with the scent of the house. Adolpha held the wall to steady herself. She smelled both the fire and stone that came off of the Huntsmen’s cloak but the by far strongest scent was that of wolves, nightwolves. It was everywhere. She made her way down the hall and found herself in a grand room with vaulted ceilings and a giant roaring fireplace. The room was covered stone wall to stone wall with the heads of nightwolves. Adolpha couldn't stop looking around the room, her entire body filled with sorrow and disgust. She saw a grey wolf with yellow eyes, immediately recognizing it as her brother Fillan. Adolpha involuntary started crying. This entire family had killed hundreds of her own. It was time she returned the favor.
Making her way upstairs, she found the bedroom that houses the grandmother. Despite being complicit in the slaughter of nightwolves, Adolpha had decided to kill her anyway, simply sparing her the pain of being grandson less. She opened the door and changed into her wolf form, a simple dark brown wolf with her matching green eyes. She softly walked in and after confirming that the grandmother was in fact sleeping in the bed, Adolpha lunged, her sharp teeth biting easily into the throat of the old woman, the blood seeping into her mouth. The grandmother died within seconds and Adolpha changed back, her plan already in motion.
Hewett, aftering taking the forest girl’s advice to get Hans’ rødgrød, made his way back to Mount Rubrum. He waltzed through the main hall and up to the room of his grandmother, who lay motionless in the dark. “Grandmother, are you alright?.†he inquired. His grandmother did not immediately reply but after a period of silence whispered,
“Come closer child, I feel the call of Christ is soon.†Hewett did as he was told and came to the bedside, a feeling of dread coming over him.
“Oma, are you alright? All of the candles in your room are out and the window has been blocked.†he said, moving toward the window.
“No child, the darkness is a comfort before I ascend to meet the Father.†said the grandmother, and Hewett moved away from the window.
“My grandson, come close so I can tell you my final wish before I ascend.†Hewett did as he was told and moved closer.
“Grandmother, your face looks smoother than before, and your eyes, they were blue.†Hewett said, peering into the green eyes of a stranger.
Adolpha knew she had been found out, or at least was on the brink of it. She was within inches of the Huntsmen, closer than any nightwolf had ever willing been to any Apostle. “Oh child, you have no clue do you?†she said in her normal voice and when the Huntsmen stepped back in shock, Adolpha changed into her wolf form and lunged, going for the chest of the Huntsman. Naturally, he fought back but without his armour or gear, his flesh was fair game. Adolpha sank her teeth into his skin and held on, despite his protest and fists beating at her spin. At one point he pulled her off but within seconds she latched back on to his arm, tearing it off. The more blood entered her mouth the more content she was and the closer her goal become. The Huntsman made one final attempt and threw Adolpha towards a wall. She screamed when her back hit the stones as she fell to the floor. The Huntsman stood in the corner, breathing heavily and holding the limb where his arm used to be. Adolpha had changed back into her human form, slowly standing. “You murdered my brother. You killed my kind. Now it’s your turn, Apostle.†The Huntsmen looked up at her as she made her pouch in his direction, changing mid-action back into the brown wolf with the green eyes. Adolpha went for the throat. When she clamped down on his neck, she looked up to see the undeniable terror in his blue eyes, as there should have been. The Huntsman went limp and Adolpha let go, changing back. She stood, heaving, the body of the person she feared most at her feet, content with her revenge. She walked back down the main hall where the heads of her fellow nightwolves sat on display. She eyed the fireplace and immediately knew what had to be done. After dragging the body of the Huntsmen outside of the house, Adolpha went back up to the room of the grandmother and found the candlestick that had been lit before the unfortunate death of the room’s inhabitant. She lit the candle in the fireplace and returned upstairs, going room to room and setting the curtains and bedsheets on fire. She made her way back to the grand hall, leaving a tail of flames in her wake. She went from wolf head to wolf head with her candle, illumination each one so they could finally have their freedom. Adolpha stood in the middle of the grand hall, watching the entire house ablaze around her, relishing her in revenge against the red Apostle.
The rest of the Rubrums, Lothor, Brune, and Brune’s wife Roswita, returned to the manor days later to find their home burnt to ashes, with the body of their only son and heir Hewett mulated, rotting, and covered in wolf marks, where the threshold had once been. Roswita dropped to the ground and cradled the body of her son, losing all sense of the world around her. A single tear fell from the eye of Brune as he placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder, looking at his father, both men knew exactly what had killed the boy. In this moment of sadness, the family was too overcome with emotion to know what surrounded them. There in the pine woods, the woods that had once been their protection, waited for an entire clan of nightwolves. One brown wolf with green eyes emerged from the trees, and rushed towards them, her entire pack behind her.
There was a time many centuries ago when creatures of the dark roamed free of persecution but once the church rose to power and began its crusade of the countryside and all its inhabitants, those from the dark became hunted, as they were doomed for damnation and had no place on this Earth in the eyes of the church. The church employed a special group of men they called Apostles in order to remove those unwanted. The Apostles went village to village and sought out those of the dark. Those who changed from a man to wolf against their own actions on the full moon. Those whose song enticed people to visit them for dinner or for marital advice. Those who worshiped the elements and the goddess nature, using crystals and stones instead of Bibles and monetary church taxes. Over multiple generations, The Apostles slaughtered them mercilessly in the name of God until the collective was so thin that receding into hiding was the only alternative. Generations passed with the need for the Apostles ever lasting, as there was no way to be rid of every abomination despite how many slaughters the church sponsored.
Within the ranks of The Apostles, there grew families of esteemed stature who boasted about their ability to kill the creatures of dark, often specializing in one species. One such family were the Rubrums. The Rubrum family specialized in the destruction of those the church called nightwolves (amongst the Apostles themselves, the common slang term was werewolf). The patriarch of the family, Lothar Rubrum who one of the very first Apostles, fathered two sons: Rald and Brune. Rald, the eldest and a more gentle soul, died following his father’s path as an Apostle. Brune, the other younger brother who was darker in nature and more cunning, after serving his time as an Apostle, fathered a son just as was done before him. That son was christened Hewett Rubrumâ€â€Little Red.
Hewett began his training in preparation to join the Apostles as young as nine Gregorian years of age. Growing up in a forest cladden mansion, Hewett, surrounded every moment of every day by the severed mounted heads of nightwolves, became numb to the idea than any of the night creatures were any more than soulless scourges that needed to be put down. Once he became an Apostle, Hewett gave no second thought to his orders and rose in the ranks, continuing to carry the Rubrum family status as the best werewolf hunters in the land. He lived and breathed the mission of the Apostles: “sustentor adflixisti ut malum in Dei lumine†or “slaying evil with God’s lightâ€Â. Once he grew to be the age of twenty Gregorian years, he was a full-fledged member and commander in the Apostles, specializing in the hunting of werewolves. He earned the nickname The Huntsman.
When the creatures of dark were forced into hiding, they were also forced to appear human; forced to destroy their culture and traditions, forced to kill their past. Similar to most nightwolves, Adolpha had grown up fearing the Apostles. She locked her family up every full moon and once she reached fourteen Gregorian moons, she locked up herself too. Every nightwolf participated in such measures to conceal their curse, doing anything in their power to stop from changing. There had been multiple experimental mutilations, many long trips to strange humans who claimed to be allied with new and unknown knowledge, all in an attempt to become as human as possible. The nightwolves had been taught to hate themselves for who they were and how they were born. Adolpha’s family had tried to protect her from hating herself but no matter the strength of their efforts, there was always lingering self-loathing behind her mask of stable self-worth. She was inducted into the ideology of the Astles being the spawn of every evil force the God Mother’s enemy Darkness ever created. Adolpha had watched family members and friends and friends of friends get dragged away or beheaded on sight by visiting Apostoles. There was a bone-deep hatred for those men. How many daydreams she had lost herself in where she murdered the Apostles just as they had murdered her kind. It was only when she was eighteen Gregorian years did her arc of negligence and daydreaming meet reality. The day she met the Apostle.
Hewett, having gone to the market to get sweets for his grandmother who also lived in the Rubrum family mansion, was on his way to back through the pine forest. Draped in his family’s well known red cloak, he was suddenly brought out of his observance of the quiet forest when he almost walked into what appeared to be a girl struggling out of a tree. He, being the manner representative of his family that he was always taught to be, called to the girl, not knowing who she truly was.
“Oh miss! Miss!†he called, ignoring her body language that was a clear indication she was trying to ignore him.
“No sir I’m quite alright-†she said before turning around, her eyes immediately going to the red cloak, then to the eyes of famed Huntsmen
Adolpha, having no true reason to be in the pine woods, had no inkling of running into the thing she feared most. She had only heard stories of the famed red huntsmen. He had slain hundred of werewolves, the clan he came from had slain thousands of nightwolves. The Apostles in red were feared the most by werewolves due to their disposition to never give up a hunt. They would track a pack of nightwolves across the countryside until the pack could run no more and accepted their fate. Adolpha’s nightmares were plagued with the red Apostles and there one stood, right in front of her. She took a breath and steadied her heartbeat. She could smell the market on him but she could also smell fire kindling and old stone. She looked at his hands, imagining the blood of her oldest brother and her sister in law wedged between his nails. He didn’t deserve to have hands, she thought, hiding her balled fist in the pocket of her apron.
“Are you returning from the market?†she inquired, eyeing the small satchel he was carrying.
“Why yes, I am bringing sweets to my grandmother. She is home alone and quiet lonely†the Huntsman said. Adolpha held back a smile, a plan already forming in her mind. If the famed Huntsmen was this stupid, she could maybe get the revenge all nightwolves would want.
“Do you live close by?†she asked, using the kindest voice he could muster.
“My family's house, Mount Rubrum, is just beyond the way.†he answered her. Adolpha almost choked Rubrum. He was a red Apostle. If the coak wasn’t a clear indication, that name was.
“If you are bringing your grandmother sweets you must have gotten her Hans the baker’s famed rødgrød?†she asked, praying that the Huntsmen would take the bait.
“Oh no. I must have forgotten that. It is worth going back for?â€Â
“Oh yes. Hans’ rødgrød is definitely worth going back for.†she said, using every ounce of persuasion she had. The Huntsman looks down as his bag, as if judging whether it was a good idea to return before saying
“I guess you must be right. I shall go get Hans’ rødgrød.†The Huntsman turned around and walked off towards the market, has red cloak swishing behind him. Adolpha said a quick prayer to the GodMother before springing in the direction the Huntsman had originally been traveling, making her want to Mount Rubrum.
The mansion was larger than she had ever pictured. It held the aura of a wood and stone castle high up on a hill, looking down upon its peasants. Adolpha made her way to the front and proceeded to scout the side, eyeing a singular open window. Using whatever gifts being a nightwolf granted her, she took a running start and punched off the wall, abbing the very edge of the window. She hauled herself up and after adjusting her bearings, been overwhelmed with the scent of the house. Adolpha held the wall to steady herself. She smelled both the fire and stone that came off of the Huntsmen’s cloak but the by far strongest scent was that of wolves, nightwolves. It was everywhere. She made her way down the hall and found herself in a grand room with vaulted ceilings and a giant roaring fireplace. The room was covered stone wall to stone wall with the heads of nightwolves. Adolpha couldn't stop looking around the room, her entire body filled with sorrow and disgust. She saw a grey wolf with yellow eyes, immediately recognizing it as her brother Fillan. Adolpha involuntary started crying. This entire family had killed hundreds of her own. It was time she returned the favor.
Making her way upstairs, she found the bedroom that houses the grandmother. Despite being complicit in the slaughter of nightwolves, Adolpha had decided to kill her anyway, simply sparing her the pain of being grandson less. She opened the door and changed into her wolf form, a simple dark brown wolf with her matching green eyes. She softly walked in and after confirming that the grandmother was in fact sleeping in the bed, Adolpha lunged, her sharp teeth biting easily into the throat of the old woman, the blood seeping into her mouth. The grandmother died within seconds and Adolpha changed back, her plan already in motion.
Hewett, aftering taking the forest girl’s advice to get Hans’ rødgrød, made his way back to Mount Rubrum. He waltzed through the main hall and up to the room of his grandmother, who lay motionless in the dark. “Grandmother, are you alright?.†he inquired. His grandmother did not immediately reply but after a period of silence whispered,
“Come closer child, I feel the call of Christ is soon.†Hewett did as he was told and came to the bedside, a feeling of dread coming over him.
“Oma, are you alright? All of the candles in your room are out and the window has been blocked.†he said, moving toward the window.
“No child, the darkness is a comfort before I ascend to meet the Father.†said the grandmother, and Hewett moved away from the window.
“My grandson, come close so I can tell you my final wish before I ascend.†Hewett did as he was told and moved closer.
“Grandmother, your face looks smoother than before, and your eyes, they were blue.†Hewett said, peering into the green eyes of a stranger.
Adolpha knew she had been found out, or at least was on the brink of it. She was within inches of the Huntsmen, closer than any nightwolf had ever willing been to any Apostle. “Oh child, you have no clue do you?†she said in her normal voice and when the Huntsmen stepped back in shock, Adolpha changed into her wolf form and lunged, going for the chest of the Huntsman. Naturally, he fought back but without his armour or gear, his flesh was fair game. Adolpha sank her teeth into his skin and held on, despite his protest and fists beating at her spin. At one point he pulled her off but within seconds she latched back on to his arm, tearing it off. The more blood entered her mouth the more content she was and the closer her goal become. The Huntsman made one final attempt and threw Adolpha towards a wall. She screamed when her back hit the stones as she fell to the floor. The Huntsman stood in the corner, breathing heavily and holding the limb where his arm used to be. Adolpha had changed back into her human form, slowly standing. “You murdered my brother. You killed my kind. Now it’s your turn, Apostle.†The Huntsmen looked up at her as she made her pouch in his direction, changing mid-action back into the brown wolf with the green eyes. Adolpha went for the throat. When she clamped down on his neck, she looked up to see the undeniable terror in his blue eyes, as there should have been. The Huntsman went limp and Adolpha let go, changing back. She stood, heaving, the body of the person she feared most at her feet, content with her revenge. She walked back down the main hall where the heads of her fellow nightwolves sat on display. She eyed the fireplace and immediately knew what had to be done. After dragging the body of the Huntsmen outside of the house, Adolpha went back up to the room of the grandmother and found the candlestick that had been lit before the unfortunate death of the room’s inhabitant. She lit the candle in the fireplace and returned upstairs, going room to room and setting the curtains and bedsheets on fire. She made her way back to the grand hall, leaving a tail of flames in her wake. She went from wolf head to wolf head with her candle, illumination each one so they could finally have their freedom. Adolpha stood in the middle of the grand hall, watching the entire house ablaze around her, relishing her in revenge against the red Apostle.
The rest of the Rubrums, Lothor, Brune, and Brune’s wife Roswita, returned to the manor days later to find their home burnt to ashes, with the body of their only son and heir Hewett mulated, rotting, and covered in wolf marks, where the threshold had once been. Roswita dropped to the ground and cradled the body of her son, losing all sense of the world around her. A single tear fell from the eye of Brune as he placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder, looking at his father, both men knew exactly what had killed the boy. In this moment of sadness, the family was too overcome with emotion to know what surrounded them. There in the pine woods, the woods that had once been their protection, waited for an entire clan of nightwolves. One brown wolf with green eyes emerged from the trees, and rushed towards them, her entire pack behind her.
[align=center][div style="width: auto; font-size: 9pt; font-family: arial; color: black; letter-spacing: 1px;"][i]etherial, almost ghostly ― [color=black]info