The Infernal Curse [2013 Halloween Story Entry]

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SolarRush
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The Infernal Curse [2013 Halloween Story Entry]

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The Infernal Curse
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Every year magi gather at The Keep to celebrate the Harvest season, bearing crops and goodies for children and creatures alike. Farir change their colors to brilliant coppers and golds, giving the surrounding forests a warm glow before winter’s chill steals it away. Tenabre foxes scurry through the shadows, young pups looking for any unsuspecting magi to steal treats from. It’s a time of festivities and merriment among friends and family.

But it wasn’t always this way. An ancient evil haunts the darkest corners and shadows of moonless nights, waiting for a tribute every year to consume. Numerous are the stories of old that weave warnings of woe and destruction should this tribute be forgotten, now told by the elderly Magi Masters to the younger generations.

There is one tale in particular seldom told in anything but whispers. It is the tale of the Infernal Curse – the downfall of a village once abundant in life that now lies in a forever grayscale of gloom and foreboding danger. This is the legend many believe to be a piece to the answer – the answer to the question of where the haunting creatures called Mohriors originated.

The tale begins hundreds of years in the past, when a now desolate village was full of life. Everyone there lived comfortably, magi in tune with their creatures and always having enough resources to sustain the village. Here the lunestre dragons and farir gathered up in the trees, always vibrant and full of color. Avraels scurry across branches, carrying nuts to their burrows in the trees or to their waiting magi.

Now, this village, with its many members and large size, had a leader. His name was Corrann, and his people loved him dearly. The day Corrann married a woman named Tabitha there was much rejoicing and celebration. It was the Eve of All Hollows, and the year’s harvest was stored away for winter, a portion used for a celebration throughout the entire village. Ale and gin were consumed by the barrel, sweets for the children handed out. Even the creatures took part, bringing gifts to the newlywed couple from the Silva forest.

With the village aglow with merriment, hardly a soul noticed the darkness approaching. A lone wolf with shaggy, ink black fur and a frame so thin its bones could be seen, slowly stalked its way to the village. Shadows dripped from its body, driven by an eternal hunger. In the night of the full moon it had ravaged nearby villages, consuming whole harvests and ruining the fields in the process. The infernal beast glared with beady, crimson eyes sunken into its skull, growling lowly. Its hunger could not be quenched until it devoured all it could.

Approaching the village, the creature silently padded through the entrance and eyed the festivities with malice. Drawn by the smell of food it made its way towards the center where Corrann and his bride resided.

Upon hearing the gasp and murmurs of the crowd, Corrann looked up and set his sights on the beast. Its very presence stifled the mirth of the occasion, shadows dripping from its mouth like drool.

“What brings you here, creature,” Corrann questioned as he stood from his seat.

Hungerrr…” gargled the creature, growling. It hardly waited for a response before lunging forward with a wild snarl, devouring the harvest as the crowd cried out in fear.

Corrann moved to stand before his wife, scowling in displeasure to see this beast terrorizing the people and consuming everything in sight. “Stop this instant!” He commanded, other magi rushing forward and casting spells to bind the haunting creature.

It howled and thrashed when bound, women and children running to their homes for shelter. Shadows rippled around its paws, and the horrible thing snapped its jaws at the magi, tearing their robes and slashing their skin. It took a great deal of magi to restrain the voracious beast, and it let out a chilling howl.

You’ll PAY!” it shrieked at them as weapons pierced its body, causing it to thrash. “You’ll pay!!! Curse your village and your name!!” The infernal wolf snapped before lunging forward.

Corrann raised his arms in defense, spells weaving their way around his hands to retaliate. But the beast dissolved right through him, chilling Corrann to the bone. A shriek behind him gave him pause and he whirled around to face his now doubled-over wife.

“Tabitha!” He rushed to her side, inspecting the gash across her stomach and side. “Somebody, call a sage!” Corrann ordered, gathering Tabitha into his arms.

The wolf was nowhere to be seen, having disappeared into the night. Villagers watched on in silent horror as their head lady was taken into Corrann’s home, the oil lamp burning all night.

None of those who witnessed the event would forget the infernal that stepped into their village, its haunting howl still echoing through the darkness of night. But that was all they saw of the wolf, not to be seen since. The village moved on, Corrann’s wife surviving as well.

Months passed, and the encounter was put out of everyone’s minds. There was much lighter news to focus on, anyway, for Tabitha and Corrann were expecting their first child. The amount of pride the village leader felt was substantial, though he humbled himself when offered words of advice from the elder magi. As his wife grew excitement bubbled in the village – a new heir was to be born during the Harvest Moon, a promise of a well-bred future leader.

But within the house of the village leader the doctors were concerned. As the months passed Tabitha weakened, and soon it was determined that she would not make it after the child was born. Struck with fear and grief at the news, Corrann dismissed the magi to be with his wife. Despite her frail condition, Tabitha insisted on having the child, and when that time came she died shortly after from blood loss.

Corrann wished to raise the child himself in honor of his wife, but when he laid eyes on the newborn he drew back in disbelief. The babe had dark, dark hair, black as night; her eyes were crimson just like blood; what set her even further apart was the scraggly beginnings of a black, dog-like tail.

From then on he refused to lay eyes on the child, having nurses care for her. Many of the villagers feared the child, reminded of the horrible night that the village leader’s wedding celebration was stopped cold. Years passed, and the child became increasingly aware of her position as an outcast within her own village. Creatures and humans alike were afraid of her, keeping their distance. The child found herself confound to her room, food brought to her by the nurses.

One of the nurses in particular the young girl grew rather fond of. She seemed to be the least fearful of her, reading the child stories before bed and dressing her up to feel pretty. The child absolutely adored the nurse, and looked forward to seeing her every day. But then came a time when her favorite nurse didn’t come, and when she did her face was filled with sorrow.

“Child, your father is ill. He will die soon,” the nurse said solemnly. Pity moved strongly within her, for soon this girl of barely five years would be completely parentless. But she was taken aback by the girl’s uncaring response.

“He doesn’t love me,” she said simply, going back to playing with her doll. “Why should I care?”

The nurse left the girl, and again she was in silence. Her crimson eyes lifted to the shadows in the corner, smiling faintly to see crimson eyes staring back at her. Leaving her doll, the child stood and joined the figure in the darkness.

In his room the village leader lay ill in bed, gazing off at nothing. In retrospect, once he had passed from this world, he would join his beloved wife. Corrann soon became aware of another presence in his room.

“Who is there?” He asked, glancing around.

“You don’t recognize me, daddy?” The girl asked, emerging from the shadows with glowing ruby eyes.

Corrann gasped, eyes wide as he froze in horror to see the wolf in his room, looming just over the girl supposed to be his daughter. “W-What do you want?”

She spoke again, her voice flanging, an echoing sound to it. “I’m…hungry” she growled.

When the servants came to check on their master they wept, for they found him still and breathless. They guessed his ailed heart could not keep up any longer, and had simply stopped. But it was merely only the beginning of their woes, for screams arose from the village people.

A pack of pitch black wolves were tearing through the houses, devouring all in sight. Many fell to the onslaught, turned into black wolves themselves; the village buildings caught fire when torches were dropped, burning down roofs and collapsing upon their inhabitants who tried to escape. All the while the girl stood and watched, petting a lone wolf that sat beside her. She glanced over when she caught sight of a woman weeping on her knees, tilting her head when she recognized her to be the nurse that read her stories.

“Why are you doing this!?” The nurse wailed, looking at the girl desperately.

The girl regarded her old caretaker a moment before smiling, the action giving the nurse chills. “I’m hungry…Better hurry, hurry! Run away, and tell others! I’m hungry, I’m coming! The mohrior are coming!” She chimed, giggling.

With pale skin and racing heart the nurse scrambled to her feet. If anything she must warn others, to prevent this from happening to them as well. Fleeing the village, the nurse stopped just outside to look back, shuddering at the howls of the creatures who called themselves mohrior. She would tell the other villages yet to have this tragedy befall them, she would tell them of the creatures whose hunger could not be satisfied.

This curse – she remembered the words of the mohrior that fateful day. The village leader’s family was cursed, and his family had perished. She was the only survivor – the only one not to fall to the shadows and become a mohrior as well, a cursed and infernal beast living in torment.

The nurse turned and ran, never looking back at the ruin that was her village. She could still hear the howls of the creatures and giggles of the girl. From village to village she went, warning them of the tragedy. When asked how to avoid it, she earnestly advised food be set out as tribute to keep the infernal creatures from entering the villages. Those she told survived, and took to heart her warning. Now, everyone living in the land sets out a tribute to the mohrior every Hallows Eve, fearful that they too might be the next village that the girl with the red eyes visited.
Welp...this was interesting. PX

Word count: 1832
Focus: Origin of the Mohriors

Constructive criticism welcome!
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