Picked up a new sketchbook last week, with tan instead of white pages. Figure I'm gonna fill it up with Sarant stuff, both for my book Wolfen's Rage and the Wolfen & Warlocks game I'm making.
"There are three facts I try to live by: it's not naive to remember that dawn will always break the night, it's not cynical to assume there's always another storm on the horizon, and it is beyond stupid to antagonize a wolfen of any size." -Lillia Crant
And some Lore below, if anyone's interested:
In the earliest inkling of a moment, there existed darkness, and light, and little else besides specks drifting between.
Then-
Three sets of hands reached out, to collect those specks, to shape and weave and ignite them, into something more. Something alive.
Those hands belonged to the Forgotten Ones, known by no other names besides these: the One Who Saw, the One Who Sang, and the One Who Spoke. They possessed no purpose beyond crafting new worlds, as they traveled from one edge of the cosmos to another and back again.
The Forgotten Ones collected their materials, and set about creating a series of realms, each balanced against another. One for life, and one for death. One each for fire, and water; for earth and air; for light and shadow. And last of all, two miniature realms, filled with leftover power that would shield this new world from prying eyes, and alert the Forgotten Ones should anything Else attempt to meddle with their endeavors.
Only one task remained after that...
This new world required Guardians. And so, drawing from the power of those final two realms, the golden and the azure moons, the Forgotten Ones breathed life into a pair of great wolves: Wol and Calu.
The One Who Saw showed these two the scope of their home. The One Who Sang taught them the skills of creation. And the One Who Spoke assigned to them their task: to protect, to guide, and to nurture all who would come after.
Young and full of magic, the wolves accepted their charge, swearing to uphold the balance between realms for all their lifetime. Satisfied, the Forgotten Ones bid them farewell, and left.
"When the cell door slid open, Crant allowed herself to glare, but otherwise remained still. If her captors expected enchanted shackles were enough to make the woman panic, they could think again."
Crant threw herself in front of the kids, seconds ahead of the warlock’s lightning. In her wolfen form, the woman would’ve easily been able to shrug off the destructive magic as mere stinging pain, nothing more than fuel for her rage. But as a human? It was all Crant could do not to scream.”
“The moment she saw movement, Crant darted up the hill. It only took seconds to reach her baby sister and drop to kneel in front of the sobbing girl. “I’ve got you, I’m here Tali, it’s okay-” Shaking, Tali’s hands blindly reached for her, as smoke curled away from her crackling skin.
Above them, a laugh rang out.
Despite clutching at her sister, Crant’s gaze lifted, and her inner wolfen snarled.”
None of them were safe yet, not by a long shot, but in that moment Crant didn't care - she'd gotten them all out.
The woman paused, just for a moment, to simply stand and turn her face up towards the storm. Perhaps warm daylight might have been more appropriately reflective of her emotions, but it wouldn't have disguised her relieved tears nearly so well."
This was not what I'd planned on doing this afternoon, but talking to @pumpking64 got me in a Sarant kinda mood, so here we are with Lillia Crant, Part 1 of 3.
I’ve decided to re-work my book again. Best intro yet, I think:
“Claws gleamed in the moonlight.
In the distance, villagers screamed and fled - far closer, a man whimpered on the ground. Recent rain had turned hard-packed dirt to cloying mud, the kind that slid out from even carefully-placed feet, let alone those fleeing in a panic.
“Please,” he sobbed, terrified hands scrabbling at the soaked earth. “Please, no, have mercy, I didn’t do anything to you, it wasn’t me!”
From behind blood-stained teeth, a growl emerged, causing the very air to rumble.
The man’s begging grew louder, more frantic. “It was a mistake, a mistake! We weren’t after you, I swear! Please don’t, please-!”
Coiled muscle suddenly launched into motion. Claws and fangs sank into flesh, and the man’s screaming faded into gurgles, then silence. The kill complete, tainted black eyes lifted to lock on the next target: a girl standing further away, clinging to a thin tree in order to stay upright. Her arms and legs trembled, and she gazed back in silent horror.
Claws gleamed in the moonlight.
Crant’s eyes snapped open.
The young woman rolled off of her bedding onto all fours, and quietly threw up.”
