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 Posted: Wed May 23, 2007 3:18 pm
It had been a few days since that strange moonlit night in the field when Vauhn, the Fallen stag, had protected her from the attack of a bear, but Hazel could think of little else.
When she closed her eyes she saw that purple glow, that dripping blood over dark fur and white bone. When she was alone and she heard a noise in the trees she half expected -- or hoped? -- to see him emerge from the shadows. When she detected the traces of a bear's scent on the ground, many days old, she fled to the safety of the other hinds with her heart pounding and however much they asked her what was wrong she refused to say a word.
The worst of it was that her entire being was plagued with questions to which she had no answer. Why had he come away from his herd under the mountain? Why had he approached her with something bordering on parental concern? Why was he so polite? The Fallen were supposed to be horrible killers... weren't they? Why did he have such a gentle voice? Why hadn't he ripped out her throat with those bony jaws instead of nudging her cheek? Why had he protected her? And, most perplexing (and perhaps embarrassing) of all, why had she been so excited and intrigued? Why couldn't she get him out of her head?
Hazel had never put much stock in fiction, but after one encounters what might as well be a character from a story, who better to ask questions than the herd's storyteller?
She chose to look for him in the morning, supposing that the evening was usually when he told stories to the fawns. That was what she remembered anyway. It did not take long to locate him -- Lailoken was well-known by everyone in the herd. She was directed to him within minutes. With all of her usual grace and elegance she trotted over, slowing to a flowing walk long before reaching him as she thought of how to begin. She wondered if he would remember her. "Excuse me," she said softly, "Lailoken?"
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Posted: Thu May 31, 2007 12:53 pm
As the days went by and his bones grew older, the storyteller seemed to only become grumpier. When he had used to make small talk with the hinds of the herd, he now kept to himself, secluded on his 'perch' - the hill that he told stories on at dusk. That seemed to be the only time he kept a cheery facade, although any who knew him would be able to tell that something wasn't entirely right. The only thing he was living for these days was that short period of time where he could impart his knowledge on the youth of the herd. Even that, though, had it's drawbacks. Not every calf and fawn was eager to hear what he had to say. It was nothing new, of course. Some little ones just wanted to hear about Starbuck or Rannoch as opposed to the history of the herd. It was perfectly natural and it had never bothered the old stag before. Now, however, it just seemed that every small thing was plucking at his nerves, pulling them so taught that they might snap if anything else was to happen. Perhaps this was what happened to every storyteller, perhaps this was the way he knew his job was coming to a close...
And that was precisely what bothered him. He had never thought he would hold the title of 'storyteller'. It had been his dying hind's last wish that he pursue it. When he was younger, it had been his thinking that he would better serve the herd as an Outrider. She had changed that thinking. The pain of her death had slowly left him over the time he had spent as storyteller, but now... Now not even the joy of teaching was keeping him happy. His cynical nature was showing through once again, and almost everything he said had a bitter note to it. It seemed the only reason he clung to his title was to keep the wishes of that hind alive and well. But was this what she would've really wanted? For him to be so unhappy? Perhaps it was time to retire...
His thoughts were broken by the soft voice of a hind. He looked up slowly, being in a lying position on his hill. At first, he didn't recognize her. He had seen so many deer in his life time that putting a name to a face had gotten a bit hard. It wasn't that his memory was failing him; in fact, his memory was as good as it had ever been. Age had taken strength from him, but left him his mind. Ah, Hazel. Those black tear markings were familiar now. They were so striking, such a contrast from her light tan body. He realized that he was keeping her waiting by ust lying there, and quickly cleared his throat. "Yes, m'dear?" He tried his best to sound polite, though there was still that slight unhappy undertone.
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Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2007 6:49 pm
Feeling like a fawn again, Hazel folded herself to the ground near Lailoken and turned her head to him serenely. Her troubled tone, however, did not match her demeanor. "I have a few questions I've been hoping you could help me answer," she began, uncertain. She sensed something, though it was not specific enough to name. Something that made her tread as lightly with her words as she did with her hooves.
With a touch of a smile she added, "If you have the time, that is," knowing that with no one to listen to him, he probably had all the time in the world.
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Posted: Sun Jun 10, 2007 3:24 pm
The presence of something so gentle was quite soothing, even for the cynical old stag. He found himself with a faint smile as she asked, wondering if he was at all frightening. There had to be something he was giving off to make her speak so cautiously. Then again, he wasn't the nicest of deer, and that was probablly the reasoning. "Time, I have plenty of." He chuckled a little and looked around him. There wasn't anything more interesting to do, and he certainly didn't have any duties to attend to until Larn came around. "Ask away." He settled in, shifting his weight in the cool, shaded grass. He had gone into storyteller mode, now. There was a slightly different air about him, and his ears were completely forward, ready for whatever she had to throw at him.
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Posted: Wed Jun 13, 2007 5:26 pm
"I guess I should begin with what happened." She wondered if it would be best to bend the story slightly to make it seem that she'd done nothing wrong. But why bother? Lailoken did not seem like the type to go gossiping and get her into trouble. And after all, she hadn't done anything heinous. Who doesn't need a little space sometimes?
"It was a few nights ago. I'd gone a short distance away from the other hinds, and I was in a small clearing. Then... something... came out of the woods." Hazel's gaze had wandered toward the sky as she remembered the scene, but now her eyes turned to look sideways at the old stag. "His name was Vauhn. He was... all rotted. Bone was showing and blood -- blood always dripping from him. And he had glowing eyes..." Her voice trailed off slightly before she continued. "I didn't figure it out 'til later, but he was one of the Fallen."
Barely pausing, worried for his reaction, she shifted her position and forged ahead. "He didn't act like I thought the Fallen are supposed to. He was... well... he was..." Frowning in anxious confusion she said, "He was rather... noble. Very gentle and polite, even, and then a bear attacked us, and he fought it. To protect me.
"So my biggest question is..." She looked at the ground, still frowning as she composed her words. "What are the Fallen, exactly?" It was not truly her biggest question, but it was the first one she thought she should have answered. There were some questions that no herla could answer but her. Unfortunately, they were in fact the biggest.
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Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2007 8:41 pm
Lailoken nodded grimly, his expression never changing. He wasn't exactly shocked by the god forsaken stag's actions, though he was mildly surprised. In his years of seeing odd things, however, he'd learned to simply not let changes in emotion show. It was a good trick for a deer, who's only defense is sometimes their camoflauge. Especially for a deer who can't run very fast.
The storyteller let a small lapse of silence fall on the pair while he considered his answer. He'd told plenty of tales about the walking corpses in his time as a tale spinner, but this was far different. He'd even been to the Lord's aid on manners such as these, but this was once again far different. He considered babying the topic down some, figuring he'd ease the hind's mind if things were chipper and bright. She seemed to want to really know, though, so badly. He couldn't dish out lies, could he? He was the source of knowledge for the herd. If all he did was water it all down, the herd would lose everything. So it was decided, then, wasn't it? He had to really tell her about the Fallen, no matter how sad and pathetic the tale was.
"The Fallen are the living dead, Hazel." He got a far away look in his eye and turned his regal head off in the direction of the cursed mountain, but only for a moment. "They were cursed for their sins by the mighty Herne. Cursed to be dead, but amoung the living, never knowing true peace in rest." The old male looked sad now. He did pity the Fallen, truely. They deserved their fate or Herne wouldn't have done it, but he did pity them. They led such a sad existence, or rather, lack of existence. "I'm sure you remember the stories of Sgorr. It is his minions who currently crawl below that peak as the Fallen. The worst of his minions, those who did the highest of crimes against deer kind." He turned his gaze back on the hind slowly. "I suppose, now, you want to know why he did that, don't you? He's a rotting, sad beast, yet he was almost kind, yes?" He could've smirked, and nearly did. It was the smallest of gestures, hardly noticable. Oh, how he loved teaching.
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Posted: Sat Oct 20, 2007 10:08 pm
She listened with a keen openness to Lailoken's explanation, a chill raising her fur at the same time as she was infused with his sadness. There was something about his manner that sucked her in: so this is why he was a storyteller. Vauhn himself had told her that he was of Sggor's herd, but hearing it confirmed in this way made it so much more frightening. And... exciting. How very strange this was.
Hazel's ears shivered and she gave a single nod to his question. "It's as if you read my mind," she said. Not that her mind would be very hard to read at this point.
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Posted: Fri Oct 26, 2007 4:58 pm
Lailoken nodded, pleased to see the effect he still had on an audiance. Story telling had always been a passion of his. He enjoyed telling older deer about this particular topic, more so than the little ones. It had to be censored from them, and how he hated doing that. They really did need to know the truth, but their young minds were so easily frightened. The only issue was that adults tended to not want to hear his stories. Deer love lore, sure, but they only have so much time for it in their busy lives. Yet here was Hazel, hanging on every word. The old stag could've jumped with glee had he not been tired.
"All of the Fallen are there for some horrible deed. Do not think that any of them have not done something so undeer like that they landed there. This savior of yours, he is there for a reason. However, all of that doesn't mean that all of the Fallen are completely rotten. Figuratively speaking, of course." He winked and chuckled a little, not being able to simply let the opportunity to make a joke go by. "In all seriousness, though," he sobered his mood quickly, "he might be a gentlemen deep down. That place they are cursed to exist... just imagine it. It must not help their moods much. So I don't believe that any of them are particularly happy, but you don't have to be happy to be a gentlemen. He did something to be sent there, so he wasn't the best of stags when he was alive. Yet, for him to be a gentlemen now, he has either had plenty of time rotting beneath the peek to think about it, or he had a few good qualities in life." Lailoken took a deep breath and considered a few things, letting everything sink in for Hazel while he did.
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Posted: Sat Oct 27, 2007 11:12 am
In the back of her mind Hazel wondered why she hadn't been as interested as others in listening to stories as a fawn. It was too bad that she'd missed out on Lailoken's storytelling all this time. Impatience and far too much energy were most likely the reasons; she had certainly calmed down as an adult. This story also had a direct effect on her, which influenced her to be more interested in it.
She thought about how Vauhn might have been as a living deer. Was he a gentleman, or had he learned that after he died? What an eerie concept. And what had he looked like? That was even more eerie, because she suspected that he had been handsome. How creepy was it to think that a rotting undead stag was handsome? Well he wasn't, no that's not what she meant... But he could have been.
"What kinds of things did they do when they were alive?" She hoped that Lailoken didn't mind the question, and part of her didn't even want to know the answer. But she had to ask.
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Posted: Sat Oct 27, 2007 12:04 pm
"They all did different things, Hazel. Vauhn's story is not one I am familiar with, though he must've done some crime to Herla to have landed himself beneath that peak." Lailoken was growing stiff from simply lying there, and suddenly wondered how much Hazel would min if they changed locations. Besides, he needed time to gather his thoughts and look through his mental story hoard to find an example of one of the Fallen. He knew some of their stories, but not all of them. Moving one of his legs into a more comfortable position, he couldn't help but grunt a little. This was simply not working. He needed to move. "Hazel, would you mind if we went to the stream?" He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the water. It was a short walk, though the actual bank was surrounded by brush. The area was quite peaceful, though, and would be the perfect place to continue this conversation without interruption. Plus, he could get a small drink there. Talking has that nasty habit of drying out the speaker's mouth and throat.
Even if Hazel wanted to stay here, Lailoken still stood up. He needed to stretch out his limbs, at he very least. His knees creaked as he straightened them out, making him wince a little. It wasn't that he was in pain; it was his wounded pride. Here he was with a hind of all creatures, and he sounded old. Goody.
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Posted: Sat Oct 27, 2007 12:36 pm
Moving, that was something Hazel never minded doing. "Of course not," she said cheerfully, rising to her hooves as lightly as if she was was a curl of smoke floating into the air. This would give them both some more time to think. She winced as well when she heard his knees creak. That sounded uncomfortable, if not painful. How sad, not to be able to move freely. For a few moments she was conscious of the natural grace she displayed while walking to the stream and she was almost embarrassed about it, as if she was flaunting it on purpose because Lailoken could not. But it was far too much a part of her. As soon as they reached the stream it sank back into her unconsciousness.
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Posted: Sun Oct 28, 2007 12:24 pm
Lailoken didn't mind Hazel's natural grace even the smallest bit. He actually enjoyed it, even if it was something long lost to him. Despite his pride, Lailoken was an admirer of true beauty, and there was nothing more beautiful than a hind in her natural element: grace. Of course, he'd also come to admire the other gender more and more as he had aged, since he now spent far more time with them than he had in his days as an Outrider. Good or bad, it had given him a new respect for hinds and their ways. Once they reached the stream, he stopped to take a long, slow drink from the cool brooke. It was so soothing after having talked so much. If it weren't for dry mouth, the old storyteller could certainly talk without stopping, until he dropped from lack of food. Unfortunately, dry mouth was not only uncomfortable, but it roughened his smooth voice and made it somewhat unattractive to listen to. Never a good position to be in as a storyteller.
After his thirst was satisfied, the stag moved somewhat away from the water and folded his legs somewhat ungracefully beneath him. He landed with a light thump, but didn't seem to care about his pride in this case: he'd never been good at lying down quietly, even as a young Corps buck. "Well now, where were we." He took a few more seconds to recollect his thoughts, nodding to himself as if making a decision. 'Ah, yes. The Fallen and their sins. I'm not familiar with Vauhn's story, unfortunately. Cledwyn or Bluebell might know it, though." His mind ran off on a tangent for a moment there; he hadn't talked to either of the other storytellers in a short while, and he really should. Oh, but for now - Hazel wanted an answer. "I do know the stories of Gluttony, Sloth and Knarl quite well, though. There are a few others I'm sure I could share with you, but those three stick out in my memory best today. Want to hear a particular one?"
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Posted: Fri Nov 02, 2007 12:31 pm
Hazel availed herself of the water as well, then joined the storyteller on the ground. It was startling to hear that Lailoken actually knew the names of the individual Fallen and their stories. But that was his business, wasn't it, to know things like this so he could teach others.
The names he listed were strange... Strange names for strange deer. She was pulled toward Sloth, because that was one sin she certainly did not commit. Later she would have to seek out the other storytellers and try to discover what she could about Vauhn. "What is Sloth's story?"
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