Post by Fernpaw on Aug 30, 2006 10:29:39 GMT -5
((Finally! I have great plans for Rancour----after he's dead.))
Moonlight dappled the empty clearing a soft glow of silver. The tall cold viridian grass was shaded of a deep blue, being pushed over easily by the prevailing winds. The trees above seemed to twist strangely, their leaves in a strange flutter; the winds of greenleaf were hot but not very powerful at all. In the rising half moon the whitest of the birches were cloaked in a dim ghostly argentine. A once jolly of holly nearby the stand of pale birches quivered. A small berry the colour of poppies shook madly before unexpectedly falling into the soft earth, revealing the blackened split that ran through it. The usually-prickly holly leaves quavered for a few heartbeats more. A mouse that had been nibbling on a few seeds by the grand roots of the tall birches twitched its ears, turning to the bush where it had captured the sound with its fine hearing. The furry agouti rodent tentatively began to back away, keeping its tiny front legs straight. Once more, the bush began to ruffle, and the mouse scampered away with its bare beige tail following straight behind it.
Large, lanky paws stepped into the space that had been previously occupied by the small rodent. Black lips were curled back to reveal yellow, serrated canines. Sallow orbs glared out underneath a furrowed brow as this emaciated form began to slink through the shadows.
Rancour---for it was he---thought bitterly to himself,Why is life so important to me? It is but a game, and death is the end of it. His bony frame shouldered it's way through the grass, glancing coldly up at the branches of the trees, reaching up to claw at the night sky.
The tom continued to wander, lost in his own grim thoughts. What a life I've led, he continued to think, not even looking to see where he was going, I've slaughtered, maimed, and assasinated many cats. A ghastly smile split his horrendous features for a moment, before flitting away. A cold chuckle rose in his throat, echoing eerily through the tree twisted trunks, before dying away.
Rancour padded on, padded on, padded on. He continued to think on this subject called "living", and if it was worth doing anymore.
Gradually, Rancour became aware that something was different. The soft ground he had been walking on had hardened, it was like he was walking on asphalt. What were those yellow lines doing in the middle of the forest? The NightClan tom's night vision had never been good, so he strained to see what he was standing on. A faint light behind him appeared, making it easier for the tom to see the path in front of him.
Hey, he thought sourly, this isn't just like asphalt, this is asphalt! The ground beneath his paws began to trembled, and Rancour became aware of a roaring noise rapidly growing louder.
He spun around, two balls of sunlight were hurtling towards him, accompanied by a coughing rumble. The tom thought, A monster! but he didn't move. Rancour was transfixed wtih terror, gazing wide-eyed at his approaching death.
There was a blinding haze of light, a sickening bump, and the monster roared on by, leaving the broken body of a dying cat in it's wake.
Rancour blinked, why couldn't he see anymore? All there was was darkness, cold, calculating darkness. His life slowly ebbed out of his body, much like his blood that was slowly oozing out over the road.
Life . . . is but . . . a game . . . and death . . . is . . . the end . . . of it.
Moonlight dappled the empty clearing a soft glow of silver. The tall cold viridian grass was shaded of a deep blue, being pushed over easily by the prevailing winds. The trees above seemed to twist strangely, their leaves in a strange flutter; the winds of greenleaf were hot but not very powerful at all. In the rising half moon the whitest of the birches were cloaked in a dim ghostly argentine. A once jolly of holly nearby the stand of pale birches quivered. A small berry the colour of poppies shook madly before unexpectedly falling into the soft earth, revealing the blackened split that ran through it. The usually-prickly holly leaves quavered for a few heartbeats more. A mouse that had been nibbling on a few seeds by the grand roots of the tall birches twitched its ears, turning to the bush where it had captured the sound with its fine hearing. The furry agouti rodent tentatively began to back away, keeping its tiny front legs straight. Once more, the bush began to ruffle, and the mouse scampered away with its bare beige tail following straight behind it.
Large, lanky paws stepped into the space that had been previously occupied by the small rodent. Black lips were curled back to reveal yellow, serrated canines. Sallow orbs glared out underneath a furrowed brow as this emaciated form began to slink through the shadows.
Rancour---for it was he---thought bitterly to himself,Why is life so important to me? It is but a game, and death is the end of it. His bony frame shouldered it's way through the grass, glancing coldly up at the branches of the trees, reaching up to claw at the night sky.
The tom continued to wander, lost in his own grim thoughts. What a life I've led, he continued to think, not even looking to see where he was going, I've slaughtered, maimed, and assasinated many cats. A ghastly smile split his horrendous features for a moment, before flitting away. A cold chuckle rose in his throat, echoing eerily through the tree twisted trunks, before dying away.
Rancour padded on, padded on, padded on. He continued to think on this subject called "living", and if it was worth doing anymore.
Gradually, Rancour became aware that something was different. The soft ground he had been walking on had hardened, it was like he was walking on asphalt. What were those yellow lines doing in the middle of the forest? The NightClan tom's night vision had never been good, so he strained to see what he was standing on. A faint light behind him appeared, making it easier for the tom to see the path in front of him.
Hey, he thought sourly, this isn't just like asphalt, this is asphalt! The ground beneath his paws began to trembled, and Rancour became aware of a roaring noise rapidly growing louder.
He spun around, two balls of sunlight were hurtling towards him, accompanied by a coughing rumble. The tom thought, A monster! but he didn't move. Rancour was transfixed wtih terror, gazing wide-eyed at his approaching death.
There was a blinding haze of light, a sickening bump, and the monster roared on by, leaving the broken body of a dying cat in it's wake.
Rancour blinked, why couldn't he see anymore? All there was was darkness, cold, calculating darkness. His life slowly ebbed out of his body, much like his blood that was slowly oozing out over the road.
Life . . . is but . . . a game . . . and death . . . is . . . the end . . . of it.
