Using a tree branch to help support himself, Brendan walked at a rather slow and careful pace as he made his way to the small clearing within the forests of Ireland. He turned his head and his good eye glanced faintly at the Werewolves’ Keep for a moment. He contemplated hiding there a few days, as the clan was moving out of it to stay in the backwater forests of Ireland, the Werewolves’ Den.
“After all, anything will be better than having to tell those damn rats I failed.” Brendan mumbled bitterly as he turned and began walking. He was angry at himself.
It should have been so easy. He would have been given all the power he could have ever wanted, and a chance to destroy the werecheetahs permanently. All he had to do was give his clan to that human mage and the wererat clan as slaves and all would have been right for Brendan’s world.
“But then that damn CAT showed up,” Brendan hissed. His jaw had time to heal and it was no surprise that he was talking again. But truly, everything had gone downhill ever since that cat showed up. That black beast beat him, saved that damned werecheetah cub, and separated Brendan from his book.
It’s not like Brendan gave up on the book, oh no. He went back to retrieve as he remembered where it landed... But it wasn’t there. The trump card Brendan had was long-gone, and Brendan could smell that the werecat had been there. Obviously, the bastard must have stolen his book.
And going on the lamb didn’t help either. His damn daughter caught up with him and, by some horrid twist of fate, actually caught up with him and practically tore him a new asshole. And then worse, she didn’t kill him. The whole clan got their say... Or rather, said nothing.
(---Begin Flashback---)
Brendan grunted in pain as two larger male Werewolves dragged him along, his feet dangling against the ground. He could feel their claws tightly gripped into his shoulder. Nope. They were not pleased with him at all.
It wasn’t much longer that Brendan was dragged though. He was thrown to the ground harshly, unceremoniously; eliciting another grunt of pain from him. He tried to stand, but his whole body felt like it was one huge black and blue mark. So instead, he settled for raising himself on his hands and knees.
All around, the wolves off his clan were glaring and growling at him. He could recognize many of the faces, and remember a few faces he knew weren’t present. “This must be all that’s left of my people,” Brendan thought smugly. It made him feel good to know that, while he may not have one in the end, he still genuinely hurt his people, possibly in an irrecoverable way. “Still wish I had my book though, then I’d REALLY show them,” Brendan thought smugly.
He felt someone walking towards him and looked up. It was his little ungrateful bitch of a daughter, although she was now wearing more than a few bandages. While he may have fallen at her feet, he did bang her up pretty damn well.
Jetta stared down at Brendan for a few moments rather hatefully. She wanted to speak, but she didn’t just want to scream her head off in anger. No. She had to be more respectful now. She as the Alpha of the Werewolf Clan now, and she had to set an example for others, to show them she wasn’t just some childish brat and that she was mature enough to handle her position.
Finally, after agonizing moments of silence, Jetta spoke. “Well, Betrayer... This is quite a mess you’ve gotten us into.”
At Brendan’s silence, Jetta continued. “You’ve had us help you destroy the werecheetah clan. You’ve helped destroy almost half our clan,” Jetta eyes narrowed, “And worse, you’ve damned our clan to the Earth Realm! We are not allowed to ascend to the paradise unless we went hand-and-hand with the werecheetah clan in peace. There’s no way that’ll be possible now!”
Brendan just looked up at Jetta with an infuriating smirk. “Is that all?”
Growling to herself, Jetta suppressed the urge to just tear the bastard’s throat out then and there. Oh no. She wasn’t going to let him get off THAT easily. “You’re so damn sure of yourself, aren’t you Betrayer?”
“More sure of myself than some inexperienced pup is,” Brendan managed to mumble in an audible voice. His jaw was starting to feel a little better.
“Well, consider this then, Betrayer,” Jetta said as she glared down at the man who she once viewed as her father. “As my position as the head, The Alpha of the Werewolf Clan-”
“Which you usurped from me you miserable bitch,” Brendan mumbled.
Ignoring Brendan, Jetta continued, “I have come to a decision.” Jetta stared at Brendan harshly. “You are no longer part of the clan. No one is to fraternize with you lest they run the risk of being labeled as well.” Jetta then turned and started walking away.
Brendan frowned as he stared at his daughter’s retreating form. “What? That’s it? No ‘trial by tournament’? No execution? What gives!?”
Jetta didn’t turn around as she gave her answer. “You’re dead to us. All of us. Good bye,” As she walked away, Jetta mumbled sadly under her breath, “Father.”
And that was it. Brendan looked around as the other wolves were following his daughter’s lead, heading out into the forest. “No! It won’t end like this!” He threatened, seeing how the others ignored him, he called out again. “Do you hear me? IT WON’T!!!”
And the werewolves were out of sight, leaving Brendan to his fate as a clanless werewolf in a world of prejudiced humans that didn’t take kindly to magical creatures. “DAMN YOU ALL!!!”
(---End Flashback---)
“Damn them, damn them all,” Brendan grumbled as he continued his walk. He was up shit’s creek without a paddle. He lost his powers, he lost his clan, and now he had to explain to the wererats that he didn’t have the slaves he promised them.
“No doubt about it now,” Brendan thought seriously. “I’ve got to escape. Perhaps I should head to South America... Dense forests to hide in, plenty to eat if you know how to forage...”
“Now, now,” A new, some-what muffled echoing voice called out. “Where do you think you’re going, Brendan?”
Turning, Brendan saw the source of the voice. It was that wererat again, only this time he had an oxygen tank with him, and the mask over his voice. “What the hell happened to you?”
“A run in with a mage. Broke my ribs, ribs stabbed my lungs, just going to have trouble breathing for awhile,” Gothwrain spoke seriously. He then leveled a glare at Brendan. “Now, where’s my wolves you promised?”
Brendan would have shuddered, but he realized it was only one rat here. “Blow me, old man,” Brendan grumbled and continued walking...
...Only to stop as he saw that there were many armed wererats in suits surrounding him.
Waving a finger, Gothwrain taunted, “Welching out on our deal, eh? Well, I know what to do with people like you,” Gothwrain smiled, “Have you ever been inside a silver torture-box?”
Brendan gulped nervously as all the rats closed in on him. This didn’t bode well at all.
See other episodes by Red Priest of the 17th Order
(Posted Wed, 14 Jan 2004 18:29)
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