Post/Author/DateTime	Post
onetodie 04-04-07, 03:53 PM	I am looking for some feedback on character development. Tell me what you think. Keep in mind that this is only the first few pages of a much longer and continuing story. Thanks :pint: Vilkacis Brennendemann Born in the great forests to Baron Brennendemann and one of his consorts, Lydia Von Spenndram, Vilkacis was ushered into a life of nobility. His father hid a dark secret though; he was the lord of a werewolf clan that roamed the forests. One of his father’s underlings, a viscous werewolf by the name of Stebbe Peeters, betrayed his family and set his lord’s dwelling ablaze, killing the Baron and murdering all of his servants. Only Lydia escaped into the forests with her infant son. Together they roamed the woods until they came upon a wandering tribe of orc barbarians who took Lydia as a slave and raised young Vilkacis as their own. He grew to be a strong warrior, but something in his heart would not let him forget the dream of running through the forests on all fours and ripping apart his enemies with his teeth. These feelings grew stronger as he aged, and as he came upon his thirteenth year, his first change occurred while his mother, her body ravaged by neglect and misuse, told him of his father and the cruel fate that was woven for him. As she let out her last breaths, a sorrow fell over his heart, and in that profound sadness, an ember was lit and fueled by his rage over his mother’s death, he became his father’s son. The tribe, not knowing that the monster was one of their adopted sons, attacked the newborn werewolf. Vilkacis, not completely aware of what was happening to him, became more enraged at the unprovoked assault and massacred the entire tribe. With his newfound power, the dreams that had been a major part of his life came full circle and the newborn werewolf went running into the night. Oft the werewolf wandered and hunted until he came by instinct to the ruins of his ancestral home. Unbeknownst to the young Vilkacis, Stebbe Peeters was standing in the center, admiring the view, as it was the fifteenth anniversary of the werewolf uprising. He smiled in the moonlight until his nose came upon a scent, familiar enough to the blood of his former lord, Stebbe turned towards the young werewolf. “What is this, a pup comes home to the den?” Stebbe called out in the night. Vilkacis, still in his werewolf form, started to remember the words his dying mother had spoke to him over two years ago. “Change from your true self so that I may see the face of the son,” Stebbe commanded. Vilkacis, his humanity returning in fleeting pieces, turned once again into the human form he had almost forgotten about. Naked, Vilkacis walked towards the man in the moonlight. “That is better. You have a choice pup, join the clan or die as your father did, a coward.” Slowly the words came to him, “I am the son of Baron Brennendemann, but my father was not a coward. I will not serve any who call my father a coward. What is your name?” Vilkacis replied and questioned in turn. “Surely you know who I am pup, I am he who killed your worthless and arrogant father. I am Stebbe Peeters and I am now the head of the clan. I still leave you a choice, join the clan or die.” Vilkacis instinctively knew he could not beat his father’s killer. Stebbe was much older and had much more experience in his true form than Vilkacis did. “I will join the clan,” Vilkacis meekly stated. As soon as the words left his mouth, Stebbe leaped at him. Changing mid-leap, Stebbe gave the young werewolf the beating of his life. Vilkacis fought back as best he could, yet to no avail. Stebbe stopped the beating when Vilkacis was barely hanging onto life. “Let that be your first lesson. Do not question me and let no thought of treachery enter your mind. I am your father now. I am the alpha and you are the weak and lowly. You will answer to all in the clan until you have proven yourself worthy. Get up.” Vilkacis slowly stood. To himself he made a promise, to destroy the clan and kill Stebbe. “Now, change into your true self.” Vilkacis willed his body to change, and he felt the raw power of nature enter into his body. “Run with me, never pass me or I will kill you. You are nothing without me. I allow you to live what life I give you.” This was how the next five years passed for Vilkacis. He grew immensely, especially in his true form. He was the largest wolf in the clan, besides Stebbe. Slowly, Vilkacis grew to understand how the clan worked and lived. He worked his way up the hierarchy, but Stebbe never let him forget where his place was. Many a day was spent healing after the cruel beatings that Stebbe would inflict on Vilkacis, but not a day passed that Vilkacis didn’t recite the promise he had made to himself. Now it happened to be a cool autumn evening when Stebbe left the den and headed out into the night. Vilkacis followed. Stebbe walked slowly in his human form for many miles away from the den. When he came to a rise, he stopped and turned around. “Come young pup,” Stebbe called. Vilkacis obeyed. “Do you still think evil of what I have done?” “No my lord, I do not think evil of what you have done.” “I have come to look upon you as my own son these days, and soon all of this will be yours. I am naming you as the heir. Now the true lessons begin.” Stebbe morphed and attacked Vilkacis. Vilkacis morphed in defense and the next hour raced by as the wolves tore into each other. Their blood running into the fields, Stebbe paused and commanded the pup to take the nest step. “Imagine an even truer form of self, a form not wolf, nor human, but something else…” Stebbe’s body began to change, revealing a true werewolf form. Vilkacis knew what Stebbe was talking about, as he had experimented with his own true self in the long cold nights of his servitude to Stebbe. He also changed. “Impressive is your ability… now take it further.” Stebbe morphed into his dire wolf form. Vilkacis followed his lead to a tee, morphing as quick as Stebbe had said the words. “As arrogant as your father ever was.” “My father was a noble man and was killed by a treacherous coward,” Vilkacis responded before he had even thought the words. Stebbe’s eyes shone red with anger as he realized that Vilkacis was never going to willingly follow him. Vilkacis had only been biding his time until he had the ability to go with the rage in his heart. “You took everything away from me, now I will lay my father to rest,” Vilkacis roared as he leapt at Stebbe. A bloody battle ensued as the two combatants tried to kill each other. Stebbe still had the upper hand. Vilkacis realized this and that cold ember in his heart blazed until he no longer could control it. With a roar that resounded through the hills and valleys, Vilkacis’ rage gave him the strength to kill Stebbe. Vilkacis slowly devoured the body of his father’s murderer. Then he found a nice cave to spend the day in. Vilkacis knew the clan would come looking for him when neither had returned. Vilkacis had a plan. The clan was strong, but not very smart. He would kill some fat sheep and stick wolfsbane in the stomach of each sheep, then offer the sheep to the clan as a gift from their new leader. He knew there was a town north of here, a port town that had a fair trade in foodstuffs and was an adventurer’s rest stop. He would find what he was looking for there. As he traveled, he made a leather tunic for himself out of a deer he had killed. It didn’t look that good, but it covered him up enough so that he could walk into the town. The town had a wall around that stood one rod high but the main gate was open in this early morning hour. As Vilkacis entered the town, the main street stretched before him straight down to the harbor front. He could smell everything, from raspberry pies to steaming coffee beans all the way to the smell of dead fish rising off the ocean. The smell of the people was almost suffocating, as he could smell orc, dwarf, the slight smell of elf and many humans. Vilkacis followed his nose towards the growing scent of mixed herbs, ignoring many of the strange stares that followed him. He had five gold pieces that Stebbe had with him at his death to spend. The shops along with apartments overhead lined both sides of the street with alleys running in between every six buildings or so. Vilkacis came upon a small shop where the herbal smell was coming from. The door was open and the scents were almost intoxicating. He entered to find an older human female, wearing a drab green robe with grey hair. He caught a whiff of her scent. It reminded him of his mother. “What can I get for you, my dear?” the old woman asked. “I am looking for wolfsbane,” replied Vilkacis, trying to get a better look at this woman’s face. She even looked like his mother. “Mighty rare in these parts, though I seem to recall having some in back. You aren’t from around town are you?” “I came from the south, through the forest.” “Is that why you came to me seeking the bane of wolves? The last time any of us townsfolk heard about any goings on down south ways was the great destruction of the Baron’s keep.” She asked. “Do you know of what happened that dreadful night so long ago?” “I have heard rumors. Nothing more than wives’ tales from what I hear.” “Not true. Not true. My sister was among the ones numbered missing. Her and her infant son, the son of the Baron. They found some of the help half-eaten, dismembered and most just gone… My name is Alidade Von Spenndram; my sister was the consort of the Baron. You remind me of him. Who is your father?” Vilkacis could scarcely believe his ears, here on his quest for vengeance, he finds a blood relative, his mother’s sister. “My name is Vilkacis Brennendemann, and it appears that we have something in common, my mother,” smiling at the old woman. “That is hardly believable but I have to have faith that Mystra would be able to keep you alive all these years! Did my sister survive? Did she come with you?” “My mother has been dead many summers now. We fell in with a tribe of barbarians, who took us and raised me as one of their own. When my mother was dying, she told me the tale of what happened and I left to find my roots. It is truly amazing that I would meet you here of all places.” Alidade went over to the door, shut and locked it. “You do know of the curse that is upon your father’s line don’t you? I won’t give you the bane if you plan on killing yourself… tell me you are not going to do that.” “It is not for me. It is for the ones who murdered my father. My vengeance is come close enough to feel it. I have killed the traitor, and now I will kill his minions.” “Wait here for just a moment. I need to find the bane.” Vilkacis strolled over to the window to look outside. The streets were beginning to fill up as local farmers, businessmen and others went about their days. It was then he noticed the man staring at him through the glass. The clan had found him. Knowing that he did not have much time before one of them would come in the store and discover the relationship, Vilkacis hurried to the back. His aunt was staring at him, holding a jar in her hands. The look in her eyes was haunting, as pale blue fades into grey, his aunt’s head rolled forward and her body followed, a great gash ran across her back. Vilkacis smelled the killer before he looked up. “Did you think we would let you escape? Come to see your old aunty did ya? Now she is just like the rest of your family, dead.” Said Rascat, an old chum of Stebbe, but no friend to Vilkacis. “You would do well to leave this town now Rascat…” Vilkacis mumbled as he stared at his aunt, blood pooling on the old wooden floor. “I will give you the chance that was given me… join with me or die.” “Is that your offer? Just because you tricked ol’ Stebbe into trusting you doesn’t mean the clan will accept you as the leader! Let’s meet at the place where this all started. By moon’s full light we shall see who shall be victor.” Rascat turned to leave and paused, “If you run, don’t worry about the rest of your auntie’s family. They will be dead by the morn after. Three days until the moon is full. See ya there…” Vilkacis stood there staring at his aunt for the rest of the day. Everyday of his life, he had witnessed brutality, suffering, murder and the worst the races could offer. Hate was brewing where once love had dwelt. His hands shaking he turned to leave. An armored human was standing in the doorway of the shop. A short sword was in his right hand. In his left he held the holy symbol for Tyr. “Stay where you are” the guard said. Vilkacis could smell the fear in him. He literally reeked with it. “And you are going to do what with that,” Vilkacis replied, pointing to the short sword. “Hold your tongue, werewolf!” came a strong voice from outside. Seeing through the dirty windows, Vilkacis could see a large group of well-armed men, waiting in the street. “We have the building surrounded, put up your arms and we will make sure you get a fair trial!” the voice yelled. Vilkacis knew he could never trust these people. There was only one thing he could think of. Acting quickly, Vilkacis sprinted into the back room, stopping only to pick up the jar that his aunt had been holding. As soon as he hit the door, a crossbow bolt landed itself squarely into his chest. Knocked back into the backroom, Vilkacis lay on the floor. He knew that he was outnumbered. He knew that death was surely waiting for him, not only in the alley but in the street as well. The door creaked open and two armored men came slowly into the backroom, crossbows aimed at Vilkacis. “Move and we will turn you into a pin cushion,” said one of the men. Both of them moved to either side of the still figure on the floor. “Killing a defenseless old herbs woman, it will be the noose for you.” Vilkacis breathed in slowly. He could smell the two men in the room, three more in the alley, the strong scent of many herbs’ his aunt had kept, the man in the front room, and the men out in the street. The smell of oil, sweat and blood filled his nostrils. Knowing now what he must do, Vilkacis begins the change. Instantly, Vilkacis transformed into his hybrid dire wolf form before the eyes of the men in the backroom. His tattered leather garments torn to shreds by the morphing, Vilkacis leapt at the two men, knocking them over with the weight of his form and ripped a hole through the wall, the jar still clenched in his left claws. The sharp twang of crossbows being loosed filled the air, but he evaded all the attacks. Leaping to the roof, he could see the line of the forest in the distant south. Now leaping away from the shop his aunt had owned, and leaving the cursing of the men sent to capture him Vilkacis made his way over the town by rooftop and made the final leap over the city wall to a crowd of peasants standing with their herds. Chaos ensued as the animals went crazy at the sight of the werewolf. Humans were screaming and few made attempts to stop him. Vilkacis never broke stride as he quickly shifted into his dire wolf form and grasping the jar in his jaws, ran for the forest. Many miles passed before Vilkacis could bring himself to stop. He had three days to prepare for what just might be his last night. He found a cave entrance in a hollow that had a stream running through it. He changed into his human form and opened the jar. The smell instantly started to overwhelm him. He quickly put the lid on it, and started pondering how he could trick the clan into killing themselves. He bathed in the cool waters and crawled into the cave to sleep. The cave was larger than he thought. Strange writing covered the tunnel; Vilkacis recognized the pictures of the large wolves easily enough. He followed the tunnel back into the hillside when it opened up into a large inner chamber. On the far side of the chamber there was a throne and upon it sat the skeleton of a large werewolf. Around the skeletons waist there was a belt, leather still vibrant even though the flesh had been off the skeleton for many, many years. Vilkacis slowly removed the belt, careful to not disturb the sleep of the dead. There were some more strange symbols and writing on it, but Vilkacis put the belt on. In an instant, he felt the blood in his muscles surge and power unlike anything he had ever felt coursed through his veins. Maybe now, he could defeat his so-called brothers and finish what had been started. Vilkacis spent the next two days playing with his new belt. He found that he could now pick up fallen logs easily, and many large rocks he could also now lift and toss quite a ways, even in his human form. The next part of the experimentation process was to see if the belt would fall apart as he shifted forms. The belt expanded and blended into each of his alternate, truer forms and he could still feel its power flowing through him. His strength was immense in his true, dire wolf form as he could uproot trees; jump many feet in the air and perform other feats of great strength. It amazed him that he could do this. It was the night of retribution. Clouds formed on the horizon and Vilkacis ran from his shelter, carrying the jar of wolfsbane in his hands to the ruins of his father’s home. The wind picked up, started blowing dirt in his eyes and his nostrils, and it blew the looming black clouds over his head. Thunder and lightning would be the music for this night. He started picking up the various scents of his former brothers. Rascat stepped out from behind a wall. “I see you decided to show up. How thoughtful. Your auntie would have been proud. Too bad you will be joining your family after all. In case you didn’t know, we went back into town after your little escape. Your cousins were there. They screamed for a long time. Here you go.” Rascat tossed a ring towards Vilkacis. It gleamed in the dim light, but Vilkacis felt something about the ring. It had runes similar and dissimilar to his belt. He hastily put it on. “That’s the last remnant of your mother and fathers people, your family is dead. All except you of course, but in time, in time,” Rascat chided. As Rascat uttered the last word, Vilkacis smelled a faint scent on the wind behind him. One of his brother’s had been sneaking up on him and had leapt. Vilkacis ducked and rolled to his left. His attacker landed with a soft thump and turned and growled at him. “I give you all a choice! Eat this and return to your former human selves and never trouble me again, or each of you will die by my hand. If not tonight, then soon, for there is not any place on Oerth that I cannot track you. I am the true heir to this legacy. You are the weak. Make your choice!” Vilkacis screamed into the night. He heard a roaring laughter from all around him, as he could smell the changes that were taking place. Humans becoming werewolves, and gearing themselves up for the kill. “So it is made.” Vilkacis spoke to himself. The first werewolf that had tried to sneak on him leapt at him. Vilkacis stood his ground and grabbed the werewolf by the throat before the leap could find its mark. The look in Vilkacis’s eyes held nothing but anger and hatred of these honor less fools. Vilkacis changed into his hybrid dire wolf form. Standing a full 13 feet tall and weighing in at 700 pounds of muscle and hate, Vilkacis snapped the neck of the helpless werewolf like a twig. The assault started in full. From every direction possible, Vilkacis was attacked. Those he saw coming were stopped before they even got near him. The others only grazed him or missed entirely. All attacked, except for Rascat, who watched from the wall. On and on the clan attacked the son of it’s former chief. Again and again the son either repelled the attack or destroyed each werewolf entirely. His strength was immense. His confidence and bloodlust were rising. Half of the clan lay dead around him. The other half circled, all having been wounded quite badly. “Come on! What are you waiting for?” Rascat stared at him through the now falling rain. The wind had stopped, but thunder and lightning were filling the night. “The night is short, and so is the rest of your life!” Rascat yelled as he leapt at Vilkacis, morphing into his true form. Vilkacis and Rascat battled for a few quick seconds. Then it was over; Vilkacis’ hand was protruding through Rascat’s back. “It’s not possible…” gurgled Rascat as his blood life flowed from him. The rest of the clan watched in horror as Vilkacis ripped Stebbe’s lifeless body in half and flung the pieces away. One of the remaining werewolves went running into the night. Vilkacis stood there and watched after him. “Do you wish to die, or live? But you will no longer be allowed to be one of my kin. In order to escape death, you must each take a mouthful of this and swallow it. Werewolves no longer will you be, and I will not tolerate any to remain in this area,” Vilkacis offered to the clan. One by one, they stepped forward and each of them in turn ate a mouthful of his aunt’s wolfsbane and each one of them became werewolves no more. “Leave now, but take nothing with you except your lives. Return to the world and live out your days in peace.” Silently they left what little was on them. Vilkacis watched as the men walked away. Then he turned toward the scent of the werewolf that had run away. The trail headed toward the clan’s cave. He ran into the night, following the fear from the werewolf. When Vilkacis approached the cave, he could see the form of a human carrying a heavy load. He watched the coward pack as much jewelry, gems, money and other assorted items into many sacks. Amused, he morphed into his human form and approached the pitiful creature silently. “And what are you going to do with all of this?” Vilkacis asked him. The man spun around, surprised at the arrival of the clan’s destroyer. “I…” That was the last thing the wretched slime was able to say. Vilkacis had grabbed him by his lower jaw and proceeded to remove the man’s tongue. Gasping with pain, the man tried to change but Vilkacis then shoved his fist into his mouth, and then morphed into his dire wolf form. The sight of the man’s head exploding in the cave was a sight not seen by any but Vilkacis, who morphed back and stood there in the silence, blood covered. It was then that he noticed the ring that had been his cousins. It was still on his finger, even after all the morphing. He then started to really smell the blood on him. None of it was his, even though he knew he had been struck many times. “This ring must have something to do with it.” Then he went through the sacks. Inside were many valuables that had belonged to his family, but he was not able to tell which was what, never having been old enough to ever see any of it. There was a backpack with a couple of pockets on it. In this he stuffed a pair of gloves, some boots, another ring, a strange looking mantle and plenty of platinum and gold pieces. The rest of the hoard, he picked up and carried to the back of the cave. Laying the remains of the treasure in a hole he had dug, Vilkacis morphed into his dire wolf form and began to fill the cave with dirt. He tore at the earthen walls and ripped them down. He started to hit the ceiling, all his grief wanting to bring down the house where he had suffered. The cave began to rumble; he ran outside and watched as the cave ceiling collapsed. A huge dust cloud emptied into the clearing, where Vilkacis stood in the rain, letting it wash him clean.
Kitaki 04-08-07, 01:55 PM	That has to be one of the most in depth backstories I have read for a D&D character. Well done.
BowenSilverclaw1986 04-09-07, 11:15 AM	I have to say I'm very impressed (and I especially like it because I'm a big fan of lycanthropes :D ). Nice work. Greetings, Bowen Silverclaw.