The boy and the soldiers stared at one another for a moment, and then the soldiers left.
His most noticeable feature was a stunning pair of blood red eyes.
Perhaps less noticeable, accept at night- Bane had another "unique" feature. He was a werewolf.
Bane picked up his pack and made his way toward the crowded path. He hardly ever took this path because of the heavy traffic from merchants on it.
Jeb was a wilderness guide, and he had often gone on trips with clients with Bane and Fang. He was a tall, gangly man of probably eighteen-twenty-two. He wasn't entirely sure. Orphaned at an early age when berserkers from the Northernlands had ransacked his village, he'd been forced to fend for himself his entire life.
As far as he was concerned, Bane was an orphan as well. He could never reveal the truth to Jeb.
"Hey, Jeb." Bane said, his voice dripping with fake enthusiasm. He was too anxious about his brother for frivolous conversation.
Jeb hurried over to Bane, and smiled. He glanced around as though searching for something, and frowned. "Where's Fang?" he asked innocently.
Oh, I dunno. A week ago some cloaked man grabbed Fang, knocked me out and disappeared. thought Bane with bitter sarcasm.
Haruno Sakura wrote:
Chapter One
"Wake up, you urchin!" A rough voice with a heavy Northern accent grated Bane's eardrums as he stirred himself into conciseness. Did you mean conciseness or consciousness? conciseness is an odd word choice, maybe you just spelt it wrong, I do that all the time!
"What do you want?" he said as he rubbed his eyes. The son was shining dimly. It's hard to shine dimly. Really it is. Your brain gets this image of shining and then tries to reconcile it with dimly. Result:. Change the word odred at least, or better yet sub something else in
It had turned a pale pinkish-orange. He’d slept through the entire day. His vision blurred, and then cleared as he looked up and saw several Royal Soldiers dressed in full regalia. The royal family's crest was on their breastplates. He wondered how long he'd been asleep and where he was.
"The royal family is coming through Ostia tonight, and the city leaders want all the poor off the street. It spoils their reputation. So that means you too!" said a young soldier, strikingCould you say poking? I would enjoy that immensely
Bane with the butt of his regulation pike.
Ostia, thought Bane. So that's where I am. Ostia was a major port city of the kingdom of. Kingdom of what? If you haven't got an name putting a line there is acceptable.
He hadn't realized how far west he had wandered- all the way to the sea. After Fang had been kidnapped- or whatever had happened that night- Bane had wandered aimlessly for days, unaware of anything, his head still throbbing with a concussion from when he'd been hit.
He could hardly remember any of it. Filthy humans. They'd taken his sister from him, and now his brother. Comma, not full stop Fang.
Bane rolled over and closed his eyes. "Can't you just go away, you bastards?"
The Northern soldier squatted down to Bane's level and leaned in close to the thirteen-year old's face. "Excuse me?" he asked threateningly. His breath was an acrid mixture of alcohol and pipe smoke.
The younger soldier who had struck Bane earlier now whacked him on the head. Bane stuck out his tongue. "All right! I'll get up!" He got slowly to his feet.
The boy and the soldiers stared at one another for a moment, and then the soldiers left.
Bane decided he would go into town after all.
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"I don't look that pitiable do I?" Bane asked himself out loud as he stretched his long arms. He stared down at his bare and calloused feet and laughed. "I look like a bloody tramp!"
Bane was tall with a lean muscular frame and broad shoulders. His midnight shoulder-length hair was so dark it shone with a subtle blue hue and hung into his eyes constantlyBad sentence. It sounds like his hair being dark is what's causing it to hang into his eyes.Also, hung about his eyes is a little more fitting
. He wore a tattered pair of beige pants, and a shirt that had a few holes, but wasn't half bad by his standards. Which are admittedly a bit low, he musedWhich were admittedly a bit low, and it should be you doing the musing, not him, oh universal narrator.. His most noticeable feature was a stunning pair of blood red eyes.
Perhaps less noticeable, accept at night- Bane had another "unique" feature. He was a werewolf.
Bane strained his ears and heard the noise of busy city life: laughter, animals scuffling, and vendors selling their goods.
He was about half a mile outside of Ostia, just off of a well-traveled path. Most of was covered by forest. Cities and towns were hundreds of miles apart from each other, connected by long convoluted paths. There were some major roads, but Bane preferred to take the less crowded ways- often meaning he traveled without a path at all. Bane knew the kingdom like the back of his hand. He was aware of all the shortcuts, all the trails that had long been forgotten.
For the past several years, he and Fang had worked as wilderness guides, leading travelers safely to their destinations for a fee. There was always someone looking to find their way. He and his brother had made quite a few close friends that way.
Bane picked up his pack and made his way toward the crowded path. He hardly ever took this path because of the heavy traffic from merchants on it.
When Bane finally got to Ostia, he felt an immediate sense of cluastrophobia. He hated being around so many humans at once. It made him paranoid. It brought back memories of massacres he'd seen- the bodies of his people writhing in agony, grotesquely twisting and screaming- all because of a little chain of silver placed on their necks.
His cheeks flushed red as a familiar hatred rushed through his blood.
"Aye, Bane! Long time no see, eh?" someone abruptly called out to him. Bane glanced up and all the hatred immediately left his body. It was Jeb, one of Bane's only human friends. Jeb was a wilderness guide, and he had often gone on trips with clients with Bane and Fang. He was a tall, gangly man of ,probably between eighteen and twenty-two.probably eighteen-twenty-two. He wasn't entirely sure. Orphaned at an early age when berserkers from the Northernlands had ransacked his village, he'd been forced to fend for himself his entire life.
As far as he was concerned, Bane was an orphan as well. He could never reveal the truth to Jeb.
Werewolves were hated all over with a lethal passion. They were regarded as demons or evil creatures. Of course, even werewolves referred to themselves adas demons. They were feared because they killed people, and because no one really new anything about them. Humans feared the unknown. It was a common misconception that werewolves only shifted on the full moon, and that they killed for pleasure.
The truth was far different.far different sounds off, maybe far removed from that, or quite different or something else.
Werewolves shifted involuntarily every night, as soon as the sun went down, unless prevented by something such as iron. Iron, silver, and the plant wolfs baneBe consistant wit hthis word. Two words woudl make it Wolfs' Bane or Wolf's Bane. In the following sentence you use it as one word. Pick one.
were the only things Bane knew of to prevent shifting.
Bane kept a small supply of wolfsbane, as well as a thin chain of iron that could be worn around his neck like jewlery, in case he ever needed to be with humans at night. He often wore his iron necklace when guiding people to their destinations.
He never used silver because werewolves were "allergic" to silver. Silver burned their skin, and if they were exposed to it for too long, they'd die a death of intense pain. Humans often executed Bane's kind by capturing them, binding them with iron handcuffs or force-feeding them wolfs bane so they cannot shift, and then placing silver chains around their neck. It was the cruelest way to kill someone.Someone, or a werewolf? Bane himself had a vicious scar around his neck from when he'd been caught in one of these massacres. It was red and angry-looking necklace that always reminded him of the day he lost his sister.
However, on a full moon, it is impossible for a werewolf to avoid shifting. On full moon, a werewolf truly became the worst kind of demon imagineable. They'd kill without thought, including their own kind. A werewolf couldn't control their actions during the full moon. Days before the full moon, packs of werewolves traveling in groups would break up and travel vast distances alone so they wouldn't attack each other. The full moon was Bane's worst enemy.
"Hey, Jeb."Maybe an exclamation mark here? Bane said, his voice dripping with fake enthusiasm. He was too anxious about his brother for frivolous conversation.
Jeb hurried over to Bane, and smiled. He glanced around as though searching for something,Show don't tell, just say he glanced around and frowned. "Where's Fang?" he asked innocently.
Oh, I dunno. A week ago some cloaked man grabbed Fang, knocked me out and disappeared. thought Bane with bitter sarcasm. "Uh- h-he sta-stayed in a town us two went through be-before. He, uh, doesn't care for the vagabond life anymore. I-I think he said he's going to train t-to b-be a, er, a blacksmith. Uh, he's an a-apprentice. I believe he fancies the smith's daughter." Normally a sovereign among liars, Bane stuttered like a guilty child.
One of Jeb’s bushy eyebrows went up like a warning flag. “I don’t believe you.” he said, crossing his arms.
Bane’s breath caught in his throat. What if he inquired about the town? What if he proposed they both visit Fang? What if...
Suddenly Jeb beamed. “That skinny boy a blacksmith? She must be one remarkable girl.”
Bane sighed with relief. “She’s quite pretty, I suppose.”
Thank you for reading
Why isn't he hunted in human form if he's got some unusual features like blood-red eyes and an angry scar around his neck?
And a new one: Do werewolves age at a faster rate then humans or something? Somehow I wouldn't imagine a thirteen-year-old being a wilderness guide, let alone having been one for several years. If he was seventeen then it's more believable.
)
"Wake up, you urchin!" A rough voice with a heavy Northern accent grated Bane's eardrums as he stirred himself into consciousness.
"What do you want?" he said as he rubbed his eyes. The sun was fading in the sky. It had turned a pale pinkish-orange. He’d slept through the entire day. His vision blurred, and then cleared as he looked up and saw several Royal Soldiers dressed in full regalia. The royal family's crest was on their breastplates. He wondered how long he'd been asleep and where he was.
"The royal family is coming through Ostia tonight, and the city leaders want all the poor off the street. It spoils their reputation. So that means you too!" said a young soldier, poking Bane with the butt of his regulation pike.
Ostia, thought Bane. So that's where I am. Ostia was a major port city of the kingdom of (TBD).
Bane had wandered aimlessly for days, unaware of anything, his head still throbbed with a concussion from when he'd been hit.
"I don't look that pitiable do I?" Bane asked himself out loud as he stretched his long arms.
Which are admittedly a bit low, he mused. His most noticeable feature was a stunning pair of blood red eyes.
They were regarded as demons or evil creatures. Of course, even werewolves referred to themselves ad demons. They were feared because they killed people, and because no one really new anything about them.
Oh, I dunno. A week ago some cloaked man grabbed Fang, knocked me out and disappeared. thought Bane with bitter sarcasm.
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