Post by Protothor on Nov 23, 2006 14:53:58 GMT -5
Hm hm hm. Anyways, I'm assuming that the audition post can be outside of the wolf genre, though, if I'm wrong feel free to yell at me. ^^;
Right so.
Atticus was born the same as most Selhim were during the time; he was hatched. His first look at life was one of a large chamber filled with tiers of eggs ranging pearly white to sickly yellow, and even a few that were a dark grey. Looking down, he found himself in a pool of clear, white, sticky substance, large fragments of shell evident as well; apparently this was what had kept him alive this long. Raising himself up slowly, his deep red scales shone brightly in the flickering firelight, the black, obsidian walls seemingly absorbing all that it touched. From his vantage point on the third tier, he looked over the edge of the nest, made out of a straw-like substance, to the floor below. His, being quite small for his time of birth, saw the world in a different light then many other Selhim; a world that, while imposing, was within reach.
Looking at himself truly for the first time, he examined closely his anatomy. Long, white hair fell down his bare torso, eyes of a burnt orange gazed out from beneath his brow. Upon his head were set two stubs of horns, each golden in hue. His arms, toro, and face all reflected a deep tan. Below his torso was where the real fun began. A pepper of ruby-red scales noted the transformation from human to that of a near snake-like creature. Ultimately, he possesed a snake-like tail, the scaleds of which were a deep, vibrant red, his underbelly a light yellow in color. Pushing himself up to the extent of his tail, he quickly set himself back down, and moved to the side of the nest as before. This time, without and second thought, he slid over the edge, and began climbing down from nest to nest, some filled with empty eggs, others with hatchlings, most sleeping, though a few curled up in the far corners.
Upon reaching the ground, he found himself attracted to the doorway on the far side of the room. Moving over to it slowly, he was forced into hiding more then once as larger, apparently more important Selhim, went about their duties. Finally making it outside of the hatchery, he stopped, gazing in awe at the city that lay before him. Tiered, much like the building he had just freed himself from, each level consecutively lower until one reached the vast outer wall that served as the cities first line of defense.
‘Some day, all of that will be min-“ he began before a pair of cold hands wrapped around his torso and the ground fell away. After a surplus of spinning, he was face to face with one of the larger Selhim, a look of amusement and bliss upon their face. A female, obviously.
“Now you know you’re not allowed out there~.” She cooed, sliding back into the hatchery.
“I guess really you don’t because you’re just a naïve little hatchling, but hey; that’s a ‘nono’.” She continued, setting himself back in his former nest.
‘My god, shut up.’ With that, she left, lucky for her, he was yet unable to speak. Looking around, he found that the nest had been cleaned out, and a small scrap of cloth had been set over to one side. Holding it up to his frame, he realized that it passed for clothing in the culture.
‘They don’t honestly expect me to wear this…’
Flinging it to the ground, he moved to the far side of the nest and coiled around himself, falling to sleep.
//A fair while later//
Gazing out of the palace windows, the young male spoke without turning his head, two others, a servant and a messenger by their attire, with him in the room.
“He was cought ssstealing you sssay?” he muttered, causing them to have to strain to hear them. “Ssstealing a meager piece of fruit?”
“Y-yes… Tarmin, sir.” Replied the messenger, dipping slightly.
“Your highness.” The second whispered, nudging the first in the ribs.
“O-of course. Your Highness.”
“And what do you propossse we do with him?” the young male asked, his gaze still focused out of the room.
“T-that’s what we… /I/ came to ask you.” He replied, quickly adding a ‘your highness’ after another jab to the ribs.
“Kill him.”
With that, ruby scales flashed, and the messenger lay on the floor, breath no longer finding reprieve in his lungs.
“Terribly sorry, mind you, but it seems I’ve done the job for you.” The royalty commented, turning to look at the servant, and then back to the messenger’s lifeless form.
“Run along now, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, now would we?”
There is little more then one reason that Atticus was able to achieve the throne, sheer ruthlesness. He ruled the Selhim with a rod of iron for a decade, and continues to this day. The Tarmin line has yet to produce an heir, yet, he vows that his dynasty will last as long as the stories of his rule.
---
Anyways... >.> it's long, I know. But meh.
Right so.
Atticus was born the same as most Selhim were during the time; he was hatched. His first look at life was one of a large chamber filled with tiers of eggs ranging pearly white to sickly yellow, and even a few that were a dark grey. Looking down, he found himself in a pool of clear, white, sticky substance, large fragments of shell evident as well; apparently this was what had kept him alive this long. Raising himself up slowly, his deep red scales shone brightly in the flickering firelight, the black, obsidian walls seemingly absorbing all that it touched. From his vantage point on the third tier, he looked over the edge of the nest, made out of a straw-like substance, to the floor below. His, being quite small for his time of birth, saw the world in a different light then many other Selhim; a world that, while imposing, was within reach.
Looking at himself truly for the first time, he examined closely his anatomy. Long, white hair fell down his bare torso, eyes of a burnt orange gazed out from beneath his brow. Upon his head were set two stubs of horns, each golden in hue. His arms, toro, and face all reflected a deep tan. Below his torso was where the real fun began. A pepper of ruby-red scales noted the transformation from human to that of a near snake-like creature. Ultimately, he possesed a snake-like tail, the scaleds of which were a deep, vibrant red, his underbelly a light yellow in color. Pushing himself up to the extent of his tail, he quickly set himself back down, and moved to the side of the nest as before. This time, without and second thought, he slid over the edge, and began climbing down from nest to nest, some filled with empty eggs, others with hatchlings, most sleeping, though a few curled up in the far corners.
Upon reaching the ground, he found himself attracted to the doorway on the far side of the room. Moving over to it slowly, he was forced into hiding more then once as larger, apparently more important Selhim, went about their duties. Finally making it outside of the hatchery, he stopped, gazing in awe at the city that lay before him. Tiered, much like the building he had just freed himself from, each level consecutively lower until one reached the vast outer wall that served as the cities first line of defense.
‘Some day, all of that will be min-“ he began before a pair of cold hands wrapped around his torso and the ground fell away. After a surplus of spinning, he was face to face with one of the larger Selhim, a look of amusement and bliss upon their face. A female, obviously.
“Now you know you’re not allowed out there~.” She cooed, sliding back into the hatchery.
“I guess really you don’t because you’re just a naïve little hatchling, but hey; that’s a ‘nono’.” She continued, setting himself back in his former nest.
‘My god, shut up.’ With that, she left, lucky for her, he was yet unable to speak. Looking around, he found that the nest had been cleaned out, and a small scrap of cloth had been set over to one side. Holding it up to his frame, he realized that it passed for clothing in the culture.
‘They don’t honestly expect me to wear this…’
Flinging it to the ground, he moved to the far side of the nest and coiled around himself, falling to sleep.
//A fair while later//
Gazing out of the palace windows, the young male spoke without turning his head, two others, a servant and a messenger by their attire, with him in the room.
“He was cought ssstealing you sssay?” he muttered, causing them to have to strain to hear them. “Ssstealing a meager piece of fruit?”
“Y-yes… Tarmin, sir.” Replied the messenger, dipping slightly.
“Your highness.” The second whispered, nudging the first in the ribs.
“O-of course. Your Highness.”
“And what do you propossse we do with him?” the young male asked, his gaze still focused out of the room.
“T-that’s what we… /I/ came to ask you.” He replied, quickly adding a ‘your highness’ after another jab to the ribs.
“Kill him.”
With that, ruby scales flashed, and the messenger lay on the floor, breath no longer finding reprieve in his lungs.
“Terribly sorry, mind you, but it seems I’ve done the job for you.” The royalty commented, turning to look at the servant, and then back to the messenger’s lifeless form.
“Run along now, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you, now would we?”
There is little more then one reason that Atticus was able to achieve the throne, sheer ruthlesness. He ruled the Selhim with a rod of iron for a decade, and continues to this day. The Tarmin line has yet to produce an heir, yet, he vows that his dynasty will last as long as the stories of his rule.
---
Anyways... >.> it's long, I know. But meh.
