Death of a Frostwolf
The wolf opened his eyes, he was a new cub- just thirteen days old and still weak from his birth. He rolled on his side in a fruitless attempt to stand upright. Suddenly! He felt himself lifted through the air by an unseen force,he was afraid but he was soon calmed by instinct, instinct told him that the warmth surrounding him came from his mother and the four grey blobs at the side of an even bigger grey blob were his siblings suckling at his mother. The wolf grew quickly and he was able to see that those "blobs" were not really blobs at all, he could see the sleek frame of his mother, he could see her sharp claws and sharper teeth and he could smell the scent of the kill his mother brought in daily for him and his siblings. The wolf continued to grow, he learned that he lived in a cave up a steep cliff, he learnt that he could leap from stalagmite to stalagmite on the cave floor and he noticed that mother was only bringing less and less kill for her pups. One day the cub woke up and noticed something odd, the familiar smell of his mother wasn't there neither did she bring in any kill that evening, or the evening after that, or the week after that. Slowly all his siblings left the cave and he was alone, he would surely die if he remained in the cave but still he lingered until hunger got the better of him, he took one last leap off a stalagmite and headed down the cliff.
The wolf had seen a hundred summers come and go since he went down the cliff and in that time all of his siblings had died, infact the wolf had not smelt any other wolf apart from the weaker ones that roamed the fields for about twenty summers, he was fine though, he never needed a pack in the first place, he had survived all these years alone, he was content.
The wolf's ears pricked up, there was an intruder from the plains, he rushed down the mountain range swift as an arrow, making no sound as he closed down on the intruder. The wolf was shocked, the intruders were beasts on two legs! The wolf howled- warning the intruders to leave, warning them of his presence,but he was ignored, these things must be mistaking him for the lowly lookalikes on the fields, he was not some grey or brown little pup, he was a frostwolf, a mature frostwolf and he would see these intruders out of his territory. He leapt at one with a snarl and fastened his jaw to a foot, he yanked his head back and tore the foot off in one motion, the other thing reacted quickly and try to stab the wolf with a long branch with bone at its tip, the frostwolf leapt away agilely and swiped with his paw- ripping open the thing's abdomen and making it's innards fall out, he turned to the one-legged one and motioned with his head for it to get out, he had made his point clear, these lands were his and anyone who stepped foot on it would die.
The Frostwolf(as he was called by the beastmen) lived on for generations, he learnt the tongue of the lesser beasts and was revered by them, which was most likely caused by him killing them if they so much as took in a breath of the Frostfang air. The Frostwolf occasionally went down into the fields now when prey got scarce in the mountains, at his coming the beastmen hunters did not dare venture out and occasionally prize prey caught by the beastmen were left out for him, the Frostwolf appreciated these gifts and no longer killed beastmen that strayed too close to the Frostfang mountains, usually sending them back save a limb or two and occasionally sending them back intact.
The Frostwolf's ears pricked up, it was most likely some absent-minded beastman again, he would soon leave once he realized where he was... but the presence did not live, in fact, it seemed like it was growing closer. The Frostwolf raised his majestic body and trotted down the mountain to see what beastman dared venture into his turf... it was not a beastman, it stood on two legs like one but lacked hair(tiny patch on the head did not count) and had a strange intelligence in its eyes, the Frostwolf howled and lept infront of the thing, he just had to scare it, it looked even weaker than a beastman(if that was even possible). The Frostwolf twisted in pain, the thing appeared to be trying to force the frostwolf to kneel to it, but how could it be doing that? It was not even moving! The frostwolf fought back, he sensed surprise from the thing and he understood the words the thing said next
"Stay down you stupid beast!"
The Frostwolf was not sure he heard correctly, did that thing just call him a beast? He growled in anger and pushed the thing out of his mind, then pounced on it, crushing it with his great weight, he had killed the thing, but what was the thing?
The Frostwolf lived on, he protected his territory from the hairless beastmen and later the strange, evil exuding things that tried to come up the mountains.The Frostwold was tired, very tired, he had seen two hundred and a fifty summers since he left his birthcave and now he knew it was time to return. The Frostwolf was not too certain anymore that he was the last of his kind, he smelt a smell very much like one of his siblings just two summers ago, and so he knew that the FrostFang mountains would always be protected, coming to that conclusion, and satisfied that the FrostFang would always remain free from anything but his kinf and their prey, he laid down in his Birthcave and vanished save for his bones and the howling FrostFang wind tossed his bones around the mountains, his skull rolling down the slope until it reached the Frostfields. The Frostwolf was no more.
All heroes are op as hell in teaser and spotlight
Seriously, I never win a game when somebody in my team got rage
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Glad to see you didn't depict frost wolves as less then sentient. Good read I enjoyed it. It also leaves room for a more pack centric view of frost wolves.
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