Scarik wrote:And Still in the Woods
Ulfgar competes his celebration of mass with himself and each of his men taking communion whereupon he lays down the cup and they all kneel before the tree and draw their cloaks tight about their bodies.
What happens next is like something out of a nightmare. The men fall forward and thrash about on the ground in the roots of the ancient oak. For some moments they claw at their tunics and cast off their boots then they start to growl and grunt until finally one of them let's loose a howl as fierce as any wolf's.
The first one then stands up, black as a moonless night, large as a pony, with yellow eyes fairly soaked in malice. Then the others, none so dark furred nor so large but all with the same yellow eyes shining in the darkness.
A Combustible Lemon wrote:Death is an archaic concept for simpleminded commonfolk, not Victorian scientist whales.
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