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Moonborn: Werewolf InfoFemales
There are no natural-born female werewolves known to exist today, and there haven't been for centuries. All females that exist were exposed to the virus through a bite, or other means (introduction of infected blood into the bloodstream, infected saliva coming into contact with an open wound, etc). The reason for this is quite simple and begins on a microscopic level. The lycanthropy virus makes werewolves superior to humans in nearly every way, including their sperm. Male-making sperm cells outrun and destroy female-making ones, ensuring that any offspring conceived are male. This process is so effective that a female werewolf is only born, on average, once in every three hundred years. This, along with the fact that natural-born females only give birth to full-blood werewolves (whereas a bitten female, possessing traces of human DNA, may give birth to human offspring), makes natural-born females priceless to the pack.
Natural-born werewolves undergo their first c
Moonborn: pt 1Adam jerked awake with the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Breathing hard and drenched in a cold sweat, he sat up and ran his hands through his hair.
He'd lost count of how many times he'd dreamt of the white wolf. After three months and well over five-hundred dollars wasted on fake psychics and palm-readers, he was still no closer to finding out what it meant. He sighed deeply and covered his face with his hands.
Reluctantly he peeked through his fingers at his alarm clock.
Letting out a groan, he fell back to the pillows. He'd have to get up for work at the diner soon.
It was a dead-end job and everyone there -- even his boss -- was afraid of him, but the meager paychecks kept the landlord off his back. That was the only reason he kept showing up.
As he showered and got dressed, his mind drifted to his former pack; the family he'd left behind. He remembered vividly the tears in his mother's eyes and the angry disappointment on his father's face as he'd told them his de
Moonborn: Rough DraftAdam heard the sounds of a struggle down the alley. He heard a man's voice, followed by an angry woman's. He strained his eyes to see -- it was pitch black, almost too dark for his Lycan eyes. When his vision adjusted, he saw the familiar fiery red curls and his heart leapt. As the man roughly gripping her arm came into focus, however, a furious growl sounded low in Adam's throat. He walked toward them, his wolf begging to be set free.
"Come on, baby. Don't make me hurt you." Said the man as he pulled her close to him, kissed her neck and pressed a gleaming blade to her cheek. The woman responded with a laugh.
"Hey!" Adam shouted, and the woman's assailant glanced up from the soft curve of her neck to yell an insult. Before a word escaped his lips, however, the woman's teeth elongated and she lunged for his throat. With a snarl, she snapped her jaws shut on the man's windpipe. He began to thrash and squeak uselessly in terror as the woman slowly tore out his throat. A panicked gurgle w
GoddessSkin made from soft moonlight
Pale and lovely as she sings
Hair black as the darkest night
As the ebony of ravens' wings
Lips softer than silken whispers
Speak words only some can hear
She mourns the flower that withers
Though others bloom when She is near
Eyes that see old and new
Violet flashes below the surface
Like sapphire pools of blue
She emanates tranquil grace
Blissfully she dances far and long
Her voice softly echoing
She gave each little bird a song
And taught it how to sing
Clad in beautiful raiment
Made from dazzling dewdrops
She is simply radiant
Although She mourns Her loss
Her tears fall like rain
Nourishing the earth
Her love endures the pain
On the night of His rebirth
Her love is the purest of all
For She loved Him so
She refused to let Him fall
And instead let Him grow
Together again at last
In divine eternity
They protect us, but alas
Not all of us believe
Jackunzel: Forget MeJack slipped silently into the tower and closed the window behind him. Rapunzel lay asleep in her bed, more beautiful than ever. Her long golden hair was strewn about the room, as usual.
Jack's heart broke when he saw her and tears stung his eyes. He rested his staff against the windowsill and sat on the edge of her bed, watching her chest rise and fall with each steady breath she took. Her face was peaceful, her lips parted slightly, and Jack longed to see her smile again; to hear her bubbly laughter one last time.
His heart ached. He loved her more than he'd ever thought possible, but he was immortal. He couldn't bear the thought of watching her grow old and die while he remained the same. She deserved someone she could grow old with, and that was his reason for returning to her tower.
He lay beside her, studying her painfully beautiful face.
"I love you, Rapunzel." he whispered before lightly pressing his lips to hers. He searched her mind for her memories of him -- the day they'd m
A Memory of BlissShe watched him lovingly as he slept. He lay on his back, one arm tucked beneath his pillow and the other loosely wrapped around her waist. His lips were parted slightly and his face was peaceful, his soft, steady breaths the only sound in the room. She smiled down at him.
Sometimes she couldn't believe that he was real. He seemed too good to be true, and occasionally she found herself worried that she would wake up one day and it would all be a dream. She'd realize with shock and heartbreak that he'd never existed -- or worse, that he did exist, but the past four years of memories with him were nothing more than the yearning fantasies of her own mind.
Pushing these upsetting thoughts from her head, she gently kissed his lips. Those same lips had kissed her own with such passion only hours before, and the memory of his body joining with hers stole her breath for a moment. He did not stir from his sleep.
"I have you now, and that's all that matters." She whispered to him, lightly kissin
EuphoriaCrumbling walls reveal wounded hearts,
Memories trapped in time.
We melt away each other's scars,
And blissfully intertwine.
A gentle kiss upon your lips,
Your skin caressing mine,
I tremble at your fingertips;
These stolen moments are sublime.
Murder of KateBright red blood was splattered all over the room. The knife, crimson to the hilt and dripping, hung limply from his hand. He stared down at the bodies.
None of them had to die. They simply got in his way. If they'd stayed out of the house as planned, they'd still be alive.
He wiped the blood from his face and quickly climbed the stairs to finish his task. A devilish smile lit up his face as he saw the terror in his newest model's eyes.
"Did you miss me?" He asked, winking at her. "Your parents and brother gave me a bit of a struggle, but they won't be bothering us now." He smiled and held up the bloodied knife for her to see. Muffled sobs burst out of the girl from behind her gag and fresh tears began to fall from her dark eyes.
"That is perfect," he murmured, sitting at the foot of the bed to finish the sketch he'd started before the interruption. His eyes darted from the paper to the girl's half-naked body and back again, his hands working feverishly over his drawing.
The girl conti
Legend of the StarthiefOnce upon a time, long, long ago, there lived a dragon named Callus.
So fascinated with the stars was he, those pinpricks in a black curtain,
Those tiny specks of light that glittered as diamonds,
That each night he beat his mighty wings
And tried his hardest to touch them.
His efforts were in vain, however
For the stars were far beyond his reach.
Poor Callus sulked, brokenhearted, until one night
When he spotted a star streaking across the sky.
Joyously he chased it for what seemed like years
Until his lungs burned and his wings ached unbearably.
Finally he reached and reached and reached
And snatched the star in his claws.
Clutching tightly his prize,
His precious star, he returned home to his den
Only to find that his prize wasn't so precious at all.
A rock, a hunk of stone, was all that was left of his star
And bitterly he wept, for he had destroyed the thing he loved most
Simply by desiring it just a little too much.
Still a Werewolf at HeartTo be free, a concept for that people have fought and died over for centuries but what does it really mean? We call ourselves a ‘free society’ but it seems as if we are nothing more than slaves. Slaves to debt, slaves to fashion, slaves to society’s expectations but most of all, slaves to the mistakes of our pasts. But what does it truly mean to be free? Is it wrong of me to want to want to get away from all the pressure and restrictions to live a life of pure independence? It was these ‘cabin fever’ like feeling which led me to fall in love with werewolves.
I have always been interested in animals but it was only three short years ago that I became fascinated with werewolves. The idea of true and unrestricted freedom, the idea of becoming something greater than myself, and most of all the pure connection to nature I craved more than anything.
I know I sound like a spoiled brat, I have nothing really to complain about because I have lived a very go
I wish I had time to polish this up and flesh it out into a few chapters worth of content, but I figured a short rough version was better than nothing at all. Despite this, a lot of thought went into creating what I hope comes across as being a fairly original the plot... so please do let me know what you think of it.
The name of the last Hunter to kill a werewolf, is Chester Mcfarthen.
The man claimed his last kill during his prime, long before Amy’s father was born. Amy grew up alongside her grandfather who daily boasted tales of his exploits around the world, including his hunting of the exotic beasts who hid in human form.
Werewolf hunting was a dwindling practice long before her grandfather's prime, so of course few were left to confirm the truth of the creature‘s existence, and even if questioned would keep to secrecy. Amy‘s parents were firm disbelievers of her grandfather’s claims but unlike them Amy needed no physical e
Lunacy: Becoming a WerewolfBy the time we managed to pull out of the little cabin that Krissie’s parents lived in, the sun was pretty much gone. I couldn’t really tell if it had set yet- spring was always the middle ground of sunset, not too early but not late- due to both the woods of northern Minnesota, and the overcast sky. By the time I turned our little Impala sedan on the highway south towards Minneapolis, it was starting to rain.
I kept down a sigh as I turned on the windshield wipers, only to see an empty road.
“We could have just spent the night, you know,” Krissie said from the passenger seat. “Mom and Dad always love having guests.”
I huffed. “Don’t worry, it’s just some rain. Besides, there’s some stuff I had planned when we get back… Not to mention, your dad was getting a little hard to deal with.”
“Oh, Martin,” she sighed. “I know you guys don’t see eye to eye, but you don’
Earth and FangThis deep into the ancient maintenance halls of the disused subway system, air ventilation was not sufficient for a fire. Clara Hailey tightened the ratty length of knitting she called a scarf around her weather-worn face and surveyed the other piles of tattered, filthy clothing huddling together for warmth in the dank, dark environment humanity had been pushed into. Her raw fingers squeezed at the frayed ends of her scarf, as telltale sign of her stress. She did that a lot lately. The cold penetrated her into the marrow, as she had very little flesh on her bones to retain body heat. This was no way to live. Only two decades ago, humanity had been the undisputed masters of the world. She had been a child then, but she still remembered the pinnacle of their species. Now there was a whole generation for whom those were only abstract stories.
Sure, they had managed the Earth with foolhardy recklessness, but it had still been theirs. They had more rightful claim to it than the aliens who h
A Wolf's MoonA Wolf’s Moon
Full and proud, the packs howl loud,
There is blood in the air; there is a feast on this night,
Compelled by the moon, filled with joy by its tune,
Every year at this time we gather before the Wolf’s Moon.
* * *
The mingling of human and wolf voices battered the trees and rose to the heavens. They filled the night with their haunting melody because, even as they were beautiful, it was the sound of the wild and the untamed.
On this night, the humans in the small Italian city did not leave the warmth and safety of their homes, superstitions and pure instinct warning them away from such preternatural happenings.
Heather couldn’t help but smile. Her blood pulsed with an ancient and exhilarating joy as it always did on this momentous occasion. Yet, she paused and sniffed the air, searching for a familiar and longed for scent.
When she did not find it immediately, she decided to wait, but only for a short while.
It was a cold January evening and it had
What You Make of ItConnor felt goose bumps on his arms as he stared at the brick wall at the end of the wide alley. He considered climbing it but it was easily twice his height. For an incoming high school junior, he was significantly shorter than his friends and the red wall stared back at him intimidatingly. His pulse quickened as he turned around in the sickly yellow glow of the streetlights. He took a few steps away from the wall and flinched when his foot landed in a puddle. The splash of the water seemed to launch a mixture of odors into the night air. Conner only recognized a few, scrunching his nose at the intensity of the unpleasant scents. However, as he attempted to escape the sudden influx of smells, he only opened himself to more. Refuse and stale food scraps threw their stench to the passing breeze and overwhelmed him. He coughed as he wished for the sudden overstimulation of his senses to pass and hoped that his head would clear so he could determine where to run to next.
A Wolf at War: Chapter 1A Wolf at War
Chapter 1: The World as We Knew It
"They are getting close, wait until the tank is next to the car." I whispered to Jacek who was lying next to me as he twisted the last few wires together, priming the final fuse. From our second floor position we had a commanding position over the street below, gripping my rifle I readied myself for the fight to come. A block away, a small squad of two dozen German troops headed by a Panther tank cautiously made their way towards our position which was at the far end of a T shaped intersection. Those fascist bastards were oblivious of the trap which has been set for them. The rumbling of the German tank was growing ever louder as they drew ever closer, less than thirty meters from the car now. Jacek gripped the detenator anxiously, thick beads of sweat running down his gaunt, unshaven face. I reached over to him and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Wait for
Off NightMat ought to have been an actor. He had a smile that seemed sincere no matter how full of rage he was. Behind a cash register, that came in very handy!
Paul was a good guy, too. As much as Mat wanted to blame him, he lacked legitimate basis. Chris couldn't come into work last minute, and Paul couldn't find anyone else to take the shift. Against his better judgment, Mat agreed and hated himself for it.
Only six hours, Mat reminded himself: shorter than any school day. Before he knew it, he could go home and—oh, yeah, he hadn't gone inside yet.
Forgetting his signature smile, Mat entered the café and stomped past the counter for an apron.
"Toodle-oo," chirped the new girl, already halfway to the door.
Mat put on Led Zeppelin and tried not to feel sorry for himself. It wasn't that big a deal. It was just one night. He didn't have a hot date or a ticket to some expensive event. Besides, there were… eight people in line he hadn't noticed until right now. Awkward.
Anonymous: Part 1 One time, when I was a little kid, my mom took me to one of her A.A. meetings. People took turns going up to the podium and telling their stories. How they beat their spouses and children, how they cut themselves and attempted suicide, and a couple of them even admitted to robbing people while intoxicated. I just sat patiently next to my mother who was chewing her nails, that was her alternative to the wine glass, and sometimes I was worried she would chew her fingers to the bone.
It was her turn next, I couldn't remember if they went in some kind of order or if they went up when they felt like it. But she made her way to the podium, everyone sat quietly waiting for her to begin. She used the same greeting that everyone else used that night, only twisted it to her own version.
"Hello my name is Marie, and I am an alcoholic." She began taking her thumb nail out of her mouth long enou
Moonborn Prologue: Adam's NightmareThe white wolf's paws carry her effortlessly through the snow-laden forest as she races her young friend. He is fast, but winter is her season; snow her element. While his red-brown fur stands out boldly against the crisp white, she blends in seamlessly.
She leaps gracefully over a fallen tree and changes her course, heading toward the setting sun and its dazzling display of color. Her friend is now struggling to keep up. She runs faster, her heart pounding and lungs beginning to burn. She looks back over her shoulder and, as expected, her friend is gone from her view. She laughs out loud, her playful yips dancing through the trees. She has won this race.
The darkness of night arrives sooner than expected, and the sky is now inky black. There are no stars, no moon. Confused, the white wolf begins to slow down, looking upward and around. Her friend should have caught up to her by now.
Suddenly the cries of a wolf in agony echo all around her. The sound stops her in her tracks and she wh
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