The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

lycan lore
06:47 Apr 16 2009
Times Read: 555




Lycans





Before each full moon the guardians searched the village and spoke to the families who lived within. The guardians watched the children at play and the parents at their duties. They carefully observed the mothers while they hung out the wash and some even tailed the fathers while they hunted. They sought the mark. When a child was born, they were inspected by the guardians to ensure the mark was not present. Parents became fearful as the birth of their children drew near. They hid away, hoping against hope, that their child would not bear the mark. The guardians always knew though, despite their best efforts, and arrived within moments of each birth. If a child was found with the mark, they would be spirited away and the parents left with the knowledge of their fate. Everyone knew that a child born with the mark was not just a human child but a child of the wolf, a Lycan.





A small hut just near the edge of the village held a woman who stood stirring a pot of stew over her fire. She was well rounded with child, with children in fact. She knew as did the midwife yet they had not told a soul. Not even the father knew she would bear twins. The strong scent of cooked meat called her husband in from the field. He lifted the heavy pot to carry it within the hut for the evening meal. As she turned to enter, a sharp pain ran through her body and she moaned. The time had come. Her eyes were wide with fear and her husband went out into the night returning with the midwife. The midwife put aside her pouches of herbs and medicines. She placed a knife beneath the mattress and then the wait began. The young woman began to twist and turn in pain as her body tightened with each contraction. The midwife placed her hands upon her rounded stomach and began to murmur quietly, soothing both mother and child. As the night wore on, the woman began to weaken yet with the strength of love she pushed into the world a son. The midwife cleaned him swiftly and wrapped him in a blanket before turning to the new mother. The mother pushed and moaned once more until another sharp cry rent the night and a daughter was born. The midwife cleaned the infant and swaddled her neatly in a blanket.



The mother eagerly inspected her children and smiled. For a moment she sobered in thought and quickly lowered the blankets on both her children. A silent tear slid down her cheek for her son bore the mark of the wolf upon his left shoulder. She knew it would not be long before the guardians of the moon appeared knocking at her door. The poor woman glanced behind her at her husband who stood just outside the hut awaiting the guardians. “Midwife, my son you must take him far from here. They will kill him.” The woman lowered the blanket and showed her the mark. Leaning over the edge of the bed she pulled out a small basket. “Put him in there and cover him with the blankets and the dirty linen from the birthing. There is also a sack of gold within.” The knock at the door came and the women exchanged a silent glance. The Midwife gently took the male infant and nestled him into the basket before covering him with the sodden linens. She bade the new mother goodbye and waved the men in. Lying on the bed was the proud mother and her infant daughter. She showed the baby to her husband and the guardians of the moon. No marks marred her flesh. The guardians were satisfied and left.

Many years later…



The howling began one night. Loud thrashing noises were heard in the forests and the nocturnal animals ran through the small village trying to escape the cause. The humans gathered their children and rushed within their small huts to bolt the doors and latch the windows. The predator ran through the village scratching at the doors and windows. It tore up the fields, knocked over cook pots, and anything else that lay in its path. They could hear it breathing and smell its foul breath as it stood beyond each door searching. With a mighty howl it fled into the night with the quarry unfound. The villagers left their huts at sunrise to examine the damage. Their hands traced over the long jagged marks carved into the huts. The farmers exclaimed over the damaged fields and the wives over the pots and other items of value. With heavy hearts, they began anew, saving what they could and toiling again in the fields.



A lone woman walked into the village wearing a gown of midnight hue, the symbol of mourning. Alexandria had returned from mourning the death of her parents at their grave. The villagers ran to tell her of the attack. They helped her fortify her small home at the edge of the village and then left her be in peace. She began to pace the small hut and took to cleaning for a distraction. She picked up a broom and began to sweep the dust that gathered on the bare floor. She pushed the furniture out of the way to continue her chore and found a hole filled with dirt. She brushed at it fiercely and found a small box hidden within. Alexandria sat upon the bed, abandoning her broom, and opened the box. A small journal lay within. Her eyes widened in shock then in horror as she turned the pages. On one page, the very likeness of the lines in her palm was drawn. On the next page the face of a wolf and the name Alexander written beside it. She noticed the quiet of an eerie silence that surrounding her. She could smell the foul odor as her door suddenly flew open. Tall as the door way and almost as wide, he was covered from head to toe in fur and his eyes blazed yellow. She fainted at the sound of his loud howls. The only proof that remained of their existence was the small journal that fell to the floor, written by their mother.