Moon 9027
There were clouds in the sky tonight, covering the full moon. It’s the first time the moon has been hidden from sight since the last rains of summer. It seems strange that the moon that beckons in the new spring should be hidden, but I guess that is only fitting that the new season begins in darkness, as life returns to the world. Perhaps it’s nature’s cruel warning to the new ones of this world of its true self, the destruction and hopelessness it brings.
As recorded before, the progress on finding that missing lycan child has been rather fruitless, to say the least. The little monster has disappeared completely, leaving nothing, not even a tuft of hair or the faint hint of his scent behind. The only proof we had that he existed was the discovery of an Equestrian soldier’s corpse buried sloppily off to the side of the road leading to Canterlot. Otherwise, there has only been the memory of him to prove that he did indeed exist. It is my personal belief that he moved up north, to cooler areas as his coat grew shaggy and hot. That, or the other coven has taken him in.
The other coven and ourselves have been on relatively peaceful terms since last moon’s meeting, the reason to which a moon is skipped here. They seemed rather amicable despite the fact that one of their own was found dead in our forests, and almost seemed uncaring over the loss of one of their coven. Although, considering the size of the rival coven, there seems to be not one of them who cared for the lost werewolf. I believe this to be a side effect of them numbering over twenty, as many believe that even if they lost half of their coven, they would continue to be the dominating force. True, they are, but not with a loss that large would they be. They are indeed a strange lot.
In other news, the new village has finished a good deal of their buildings, with some dozen houses surrounding a community lodge. They number some eighty or ninety, and are a good group of hardy stallions and mares, all well built for the settling of a harsh land on the cusp of a harsh winter. They have some foals among them, but most are young couples hoping to start a life away from the raging wars in the north and east.
Speaking of those wars, it seems to me that at last there is hope for the ceaseless violence to end. A large gathering of young stallions, along with the promise of a greater yield of food with this next coming harvest, may see this brutal conflict to end in a year’s time. The army of the Crystal Empire is weaker than before, with most of the occupied land empty of soldiers, allowing for spies to penetrate deep into the land without danger. I, in fact, have made contributions to ending the dispute as well by sending out Argon to serve as a spy for our Princesses. Despite my involvement in the conflict, I have yet to meet the alicorn sisters themselves, nor anypony important from their court. I am fine with this, as long as it means my coven and I still live in peace.
Nightseer gave birth to her and Argon’s child a mere two weeks ago as well. It was an interesting ordeal, as it meant that we were now caring for the first naturally born member of our coven. It is still too early to tell whether the little mare is a Mordigan such as I, or merely a vampyre or lycan. Either way, we know that the child is incredibly special, as she was born on half of a moon precisely. Fate is no deceiver, as not even an hour from the child’s birth, a star flew across the sky in a blaze of red. Indeed, whoever this child may become, and whatever she is, the fates are looking out for her.
I must go now. The night is once again late, and there is dinner being served. Ailade insists that I continue to eat as if I were still growing, but I feel my body. It is aging. As I've told you before, my faithful friend, I am dying. I feel as if I can’t last the remaining time on this world that I’m supposed to have, and some days I feel as if my hooves will simply break off into dust prematurely. But enough moping, my coven needs me. Until next moon, my friend.
Until I am no longer Damned,
Hemorrhage
Hemorrhage set down the quill besides the large tome that served as his journal, leaning back in his chair as he used his magic to quickly dry the setting ink. He felt tired tonight, despite the good amount of sleep he’d been managing to receive in the past weeks. Perhaps he should tell Ailade about this? No, she would simply worry more and insist that he leave to find the mare for him. It wouldn’t happen, he continuously told her, and that was fine. He’d had his fair share of life, and eight hundred and fifty year was still a good while to live, even if it till felt like such short time
Groaning slightly, he stood and began walking out of his writing chamber and down the hallway that would lead to the dining room. The castle they had built still amazed him, in spite of knowing precisely how it was supposed to look and function from the start. Because Nightseer was a vampyre, and potentially her daughter as well, the whole castle had been built without windows, though some were installed in places like his writing chamber. He’d been there a lot over the past year, simply writing down thoughts and impressions he’d had, and compiling his life into a novel for others to read when he had passed. He wanted it to be his last gift to the family he had accidentally started, the story of his life for the three hundred years before he’d met Ailade and Argon.
The castle itself seemed aged, despite having been completed only two and a half years ago. There was a feeling about it, and the entire forest that gave it a seniority of sorts, the stones already worn by wind, snow, and rain. In spite of the wear, it was still rather grand, three stories tall in some places, with an indoor garden for Nightseer to tend. He smiled at the thought of the young mare and her child in the dark garden, watering the plants and playing around with the glowing flowers, Argon watching on. He didn’t know why, but he had begun to become more sentimental as he aged, as if knowing that his life was ending soon was allowing him to appreciate others’ more. It was strange, and if he thought too hard on it, he would surely gain a headache, so he simply passed into the main foyer with the thought.
He rubbed underneath his eyes in an attempt to ward of the tiredness he felt, feeling the deep sagging underneath them. Blood of the innocents, he was old. Grumbling slightly at the fact, he turned a corner under the bright light of several candles into the dining area.
There, all but Nightseer and her child were, sitting around the carcass of a fat, red reindeer. It’s neck was gaping where Leper had torn out its throat, the blood cleaned away completely by the young lycan already. They were talking in relatively hushed voices as Ailade cut into the animal, serving the raw meat out to Leper and Argon. The three all looked towards him as he approached, Ailade smiling and saying, “Ah, just in time. How big of a cut of meat would you like?”
“Rather small,” he answered, surprised by how hoarse his voice was. He sat down besides Leper, who was busy tearing off a chunk of meat from the leg he got. “Quite the catch, Leper. Good hunting?”
“Yep,” the gray lycan confirmed, swallowing the bite. “This buck was out late, I think. Probably looking around for food for his mate and kid. I think I saw them as well, at the edge of the forest. For some reason there were a lot of little and big animals all over the town, and no ponies to shoo them off. I was wondering why, but then I saw this fella, and, well, stomach over mind.”
He finished talking by taking another bite. Ailade slid Hemorrhage his plate, which, unlike asked, had an entire flank of the deer on it instead of the requested smaller portion. He gave her a stern, questioning look, to which she innocently explained, “My knife slipped, and well, it got a bigger chunk of meat than I intended.”
Hemorrhage rolled his eyes and bent his head down, taking a small bite from the meat. The deer tasted good enough, but he was tired and not particularly hungry, so after only a few minutes of eating, he set aside his plate, half of the flank left untouched. Standing up, he began to silently walk away before Ailade called out to him, “You should get out of the castle! It’s a full moon, and you haven’t been on an outing since that convention you held with the other coven! Perhaps you should go check in on the townsfolk and make sure that they are well, even offer them some of our help with the animals, should they need it.”
With a glance behind his shoulder, he sighed and complied. “Alright, I’ll go.” Turning to Leper, he instructed, “Come with me Leper. Stay out of your lycan self.”
“M’kay,” he agreed through an especially tough bite, finishing off his leg and leaving the bones for later. He stood up and began walking after the elderly mordigan, his coat suddenly seeming to be very limp. After a second, he caught up to Hemorrhage, still chewing on his last bite.
The young stallion’s coat was slowly gaining a blueish color, though still remaining a slight gray. His shaggy mane became straighter, less wild than it had been in his lycan state. His sharp teeth slowly retracted from ticking out of his mouth as Hemorrhage knew the regular pony teeth were extending. His claws retracted, and although the chitin that had once been his hoof was gone, the fact would be hidden with the thick, glistening padding of his paws. His tail remained longer than it should have been as a pony, though that could be easily explained as a natural oddity, one which the villagers were already familiar with. It was still amazing to him how they were able to change exactly who and what they were at a moment's notice, despite having done so thousands of times himself.
The elderly unicorn and young lycan strolled out from the castle, leaving the stone brick structure behind as they ventured down the rarely trod dirt path. They had considered cobbling, but quickly realized that there was no possible way to get the resources directly out into the wild forest, unlike with the castle. Besides that, it was much too expensive to do so, and Ailade was against damaging the wilderness. In the end, the idea was dropped, instead just beating out a small path between trees and bushes. Which was probably why not many ponies traveled out along the path, at least, not alone.
They eventually emerged from the deeper woods to a section of the forest where the trees were more spread out and new. This was where a majority of the game was, as there were dozens of hidden pools, creeks, and streams that gave the area life. Even now he saw little rabbits and nocturnal critters skittering around, his enhanced sight in the dark allowing him to spot them. An owl was flitting around as well, diving at a couple of mice and catching one of them, the creature squeaking helplessly as it was carried away into the night.
“Ah, nature,” Leper commented beside him sarcastically, obviously having watched the spectacle as well.
Hemorrhage nodded in agreement, speaking softly, “I mean, you did just tear out a deer's throat, so there isn’t much separating us from them.”
“Yeah, fair enough,” he admitted, taking the lead as he continued walking. “Gotta survive though, right?” So he did remember those lessons.
The forest parted completely, leaving the landscape to become rolling pastures bordered all around by the greenery of another forest. The rolling hills were bare, save for occasional dots of white marking where the last of the winter’s snow lay in shaded areas. Atop two of the hills was the village, the straw and mud buildings looking abandoned without smoke streams slowly rising from the homes. To the left was the southern boundaries of the forest, where the hills and trees met and created the raised trees and complex landscape. To the right was the great open north, the great hills slowly flattening out as they spread the forest and revealed the distant mountains on which Canterlot was built. The sight was beautiful in the pale white light of the moon, the little dots of snow reflecting the bright looking as if there were shards of the moon on the ground itself.
Hemorrhage gave the entire landscape a wide smile. It was certainly the right choice to move here, and the more he saw the land and learned of its populace, the more he found himself wishing to live here until the end of his life. It would be the best place to let the coven thrive once he was done, as it was both expansive and small, by the consideration of himself. The land was like a hearty meal. Plentiful, but also short. One could spend eternity reliving the main course itself, or they could enjoy the other entrees too, and either way you would be left satisfied and looking forward to doing it again.
Slowly, he realized he had stopped walking completely, and quickly hastened his pace to catch up with Leper, who was patiently waiting for his coven leader while also enjoying the sights of this back corner of a gorgeous land. The two resumed their hike, drawing near to the village’s actual roads, which cut off about a half mile away from the last building. They were obviously planning expansion, seeing as how they had actually beaten out little roads for new houses to be placed along. It was the sort of thing these ponies seemed fond of doing, progressing themselves, and then planning for others the same progress.
As they trod onto the road, however, a faint scent came to him, and he knew that it must have been a scent that Leper had smelt long before they had gotten so near to the village. It was the scent of dried blood and exposed innards. However faint it may be, it was a scent that he recognized well from his expansive experience.
He glanced over to Leper with narrowed eyes, giving him a short nod as they made eye contact. Without making a noise, the young lycan began quaking as he forced his teeth to grow back out, the hair on his hide becoming longer and denser. His eyes became sharper as he stood taller, glaring down the street in search for any potential enemies. Despite the agreements to peace with the other coven, the ompyre in charge had made it clear that he was not too keen with regular ponies. It was already known that they were pony eaters, and that he was perfectly fine with allowing his underlings to feast on their former kin. If they had indeed been behind whatever was causing the smell that wafted around these parts, then there would need to be retribution of some sort.
They slowed their pace as they passed the first of the huts, Leper pressing himself against the side of the home to check through the window. Nodding that it was clear, Hemorrhage continued walking down the center of the road, giving a sidelong glance to another building. It had obviously been empty for a while, the thatch roof in terrible condition for keeping the winter cold out. Continuing to survey the buildings his breath caught a pile of something on the ground. Without even needing to approach it, he could tell they were the skeletal remains of a pony. Taking a deep breath, he stepped into the center of the square, prepared to face whatever might greet him there.
The center of the town had dozens of piles of bones scattered around, most of them in a relatively centralized area. Each skeleton was complete, pony skulls smiling hauntingly in every direction, including at him. His jaw tightened as he began to search for any signs of vampyres or werewolves, Leper letting out a short curse at the sight of so many dead. Hemorrhage silently stepped up to a complete skeleton, the bones at the ribs slightly spread apart in order to easily access the juicy innards. He grimaced as he realized that this skeleton was a smaller one, not quite a foals, but certainly not an adult’s.
As he stared it up and down, he realized that four or five of the vertebrae near the center of the pony’s back were missing. With a furrowed brow, he checked over the rest of the skeleton closer, noting the teeth marks on nearly every bone. He wasn’t able to identify the teeth too well, other than the fact that they had indeed come from a larger carnivore. The body had probably been scavenged, which explained the multitude of teeth marks and missing bones, but not why the body was here in the first place.
Moving on to another pile of bones, he found this one to be much more enlightening, and confusing, then the last one. For starters, the ribs on this pony had been sliced from the side, leaving the rib bones to end bluntly. Whatever had caused the cut had also crushed the skull of this on, the fractal pieces of bone filling a collapsed dome. The face of the dead pony had also been lightly scratched, four shallow marks crossing its face from ear to chin. However, the real confusion came from the broken pieces of a pitchfork that lay not too far from it. The weapon had quite obviously been this pony’s, as it was sliced into four separate pieces. The pony wielding it had probably attempted to block a strike from his attacker by holding the pitchfork in front of his face, but the power of the slice had was too much, mauling his face and destroying his weapon.
“Hemorrhage, over here,” Leper called hoarsely. “This skeleton isn’t one of a pony’s!”
With a confused grunt, he stood and stepped away from the body, saying a quick prayer for the soul of its former inhabitant, and all the other bodies around the square. Leper was standing over a pile that looked more like a scruffy patch of dirt and grass than a body, but as he drew closer, he could distinctly make out decaying fur. Stopping beside Leper, he crouched down to examine the body better, the decomposing body partially preserved by winter. The body was certainly not one of a pony’s, to be sure, seeing as it was both too short and too long to be one. The fur had been bushy, and he quickly recognized its face as one of a wolf’s. Besides it was another body, this one with its skull and chest exposed, most of the flesh and innards of this one having been eaten away.
“Wolves,” Hemorrhage slowly began piecing together. Glancing over to the forest on his right, then on his left, he pointed to wild trees and vines. “They reside somewhere in that forest, and most likely hunt in this area, or at least somewhere in this general direction. With the new town coming in, it blocked off their hunting grounds, or perhaps challenged their territorial lines. They retaliated to the movement of ponies into their land. This had to have happened right before winter’s first moon, otherwise we would have knowledge.”
“Definitely some wolves,” Leper agreed, “but wolves don’t cut a stallion -earth stallion- mind you, clean in half. There’s gotta be some sort of monster with them in order to kill sixty three ponies before any of them could escape for help. Besides, most of these bodies are more mutilated than some torn throats and viscous bites. An entire front half of a skeleton was missing, but I found it some thirty paces away. If it actually matches up or not doesn’t really matter. We either have something that tore two ponies in half, or threw one half of one a distance farther than two houses. Whichever it is, it’s something that only one thing that I can think of can do.”
“A lycan,” Hemorrhage questioned cautiously.
“A lycan,” Leper confirmed.
“Then I guess we know that there’s still that one out there,” the mordigan concluded, suddenly feeling very tired.
“And it seems like he’s gone completely primal,” Leper added solemnly, lifting up a pony skull in his paw, observing the half that was missing. “I have his scent now, along with the other wolves he was with. It looks like he found himself a pack to stick around with, if he didn’t make one himself. We can find him now, if you wish,” he suggested quietly, looking almost eager to leave the scene. Despite his rather callous approach to most death, he was very conscious about the death of dozens at once. Hemorrhage knew it brought back unwanted memories from his life before, and he rightly avoided the topic.
With a deep breath, he looked out over the landscape, the rolling hills lit by the mid-moon. Frowning, he stood fully. “I guess we have lycan to find, and a lost soul to save, then.”