User blog:GamerNerd i/Lone Wolf

Here's a little thing I wrote to help me out with some character development.

For those who don't know, I recently joined Vergel Nikolai's The Sunken Pyramid RPG on the Discord server. Long story short, it's a DnD-esque game that's somewhat set in the PvZ world. The characters are Plants and Zombies (with a few exceptions) and... Yeah. It's an RPG.

Part of this game is roleplaying. Yes, that roleplaying that we voted to banish from the wiki. As it stands, I'm still trying to figure out my character's... Character, and other things. So what do I do? I write. Obviously.

So enjoy this mix of backstory, character development, and foreshadowing, featuring my SP character Cerbenris, a shamanistic Wolfsbane... Who was trained as a hunter... And also happens to be a lycanthrope... And talks to some rather familiar spirits (wink wink)... Yeah, he's... Rather multifaceted.

Thanks to DatDramaPlant and ChemistryStones for making their characters Drip and Ashfall (respectively) follow Cerbenris into the woods for these conversations. Thanks to Vergel for greenlighting this and allowing this to become canon. And lastly... Well, I don't know who to thank, but there's another character that isn't mine.

Anyway, enough talk from me. Enjoy!

Echoes of the Past
Cerbenris stood alone on the deck of the ship, gazing into nowhere. Windegoo had only fallen a few minutes ago, but the all details of its dramatic death had already begun to meld with the rest of the battle.

All the details… Except for one.

Felix was in poor condition after he had cast Winterpocalypse. As soon as the rune was drawn, he had collapsed, shivering and unconscious. Soon after, Freya flew Felix to the nearby village for his recovery.

Cerbenris knew what the symptoms meant: casting the powerful incantation had given Felix magical fatigue. He too had experienced it when Lupai was teaching him. It was like hunting: the more often you did it, the less it took out of you.

But this fatigue, connected to a rune, in particular, was far more disturbing to Cerbenris than a simple overexertion. He closed his eyes and was swept into his memories...

“Breathe... Let the power flow through you. It will run its course. Don’t try to control it.”

The female spirit’s didactic voice fluttered around Cerbenris’ surroundings like a breeze. Arms extended, the flower felt the earth's energy coursing through his stems, into the palms of his leaves, and into the limp body of the Cattail lying in front of him.

“Keep repeating what I said. Remember your pronunciation.”

“Sna’drew fo imet, nrut kcab eht kcolc, erotser siht od’yb ot lluf ht’gnerts...”

The words were in a language Cerbenris didn’t know. He didn’t understand what he was saying. He only knew that it was a powerful regeneration incantation.

One of his spirits—Nadia, the female, the one guiding him now—had introduced it to him. The language was mysterious and unusual, yet somehow familiar. What it was didn’t matter: the language was more powerful than even his spirit understood. If he could use that power to protect his friend, that’s all he needed.

“Ward tou eht levi, hserfer eht lous...”

With his eyes closed, Cerbenris couldn’t see what he was doing in front of him. This time, that didn’t matter. He trusted that Nadia was correct about this restorative spell. He had just met her and her counterpart, after all. Supposedly, it was one that she too had used a while back to revive an ally who had almost died. He didn't trust the spirit completely, but if it healed his friend, he had no choice but to use it.

Not like Cerbenris needed his sight to know what was happening around him. His childhood training had sharpened his senses. This, combined with the natural senses of his Lycan form, gave him an almost supernatural awareness. He could hear the rustling of the male spirit's clothing behind him, smell Neko's lingering hint of fish, and feel the warmth flow from his body into the Cattail.

Except... That last one was wrong. Cerbenris became aware that something was resisting his healing... At least, he had assumed he was healing. He kept chanting. Soon, energy was no longer flowing from him into Neko; it was flowing from Neko into him. He felt the mage's energy creeping into his stems. No... Not Neko's. Something far more powerful, but enhanced by the Cattail's power.

Cerbenris’ incantation wavered, changing into something else. His voice was no longer his own, nor was it within his control. Cerbenris’ mind struggled to pull away, but his body remained. He couldn’t even separate his soul; something—someone—had imprisoned his spirit within his physical form. He heard a multitude of voices whispering, drowning out Nadia’s concerned screams.

Then there was silence.

Cerbenris’ eyes fluttered open as Aidan, the male spirit, removed his hand from Cerbenris’ back. Confused, the youth turned around and attempted to speak. No sound came out.

“I’m... I’m sorry, Cerbenris,” Nadia says apologetically. “Something... Happened. I should have foreseen the resistance... I shouldn’t have let you do that.”

The airship ground to a halt, coming to port with the heavy crackling of gravel. Cerbenris opened his eyes, his focus on the memory broken.

A multitude of emotions welled up in Cerbenris. Not here, he thought.

Gritting his teeth and clenching his leaves, Cerbenris fled into the woods. Two of his new friends called after him. He never looked back.

Forest's Calm
The youth didn’t enjoy letting loose the beast within, but this time it was absolutely necessary.

Once he was out of range of the town, he turned his mind over to the Lycan. The canine flower wreaked havoc on the forest’s inanimate trees for some time.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on a rock on the bank of a lake, exhausted. His mouth tasted of bark, blood, and fur. He didn’t want to know where the latter two had come from.

Cerbenris’ mind had cleared. The ambiance of the forest soothed him. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was back home, sitting beside Lake Neotslawc. He could hear the salmon splashing in the water, the fishermen casting their lines... Any moment now, his old friends would sneak up on him and—

Cerbenris’ eyes snapped open as he turned and threw a dagger in the direction of a breaking branch. His aim was deadly accurate; he would have killed the intruder... If the Aloe hadn’t given him a shield. The dagger bounced off the bubble and flew back to Cerbenris. In an impressive show of intuition, Cerbenris leans to the side and catches the blade before it can fall in the water.

“Nice to see you too, Shaman,” the Fire Peashooter says sarcastically.

“I... Sorry, Ashfall,” Cerbenris says, turning back to the lake in shame. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. I’m... Jumpy.”

“I can see that. Thanks for the save, Drip.”

The Aloe nods. “Anyway... Are you okay, Cerbenris? You stormed off out of nowhere.”

Cerbenris takes a deep breath. “I haven’t been truly okay for about a year or so now, but relatively speaking, I’m okay,” the bloom avoids Ashfall and Drip’s eyes. “Seeing Felix after he cast that spell... It brought a painful memory to the surface. I’m fine now. I just... Needed to get something out of my system.”

Ashfall takes a seat beside Cerbenris on a nearby rock. “By which you mean going to town on those trees, right? You did quite a number on them.”

Not me,” Cerbenris starts, shaking his head. “Well, yes me, but not my mind. I can only do so much to curb the Lycan.” As a demonstration, his left arm clenches, growing fur and claws. It then reverts to its normal state. “Some days, I can’t do anything but unleash the beast.”

The three are silent for a moment. Cerbenris’ mind drifts back to his home again.

“You know, I understand that feeling,” Ashfall says.

Cerbenris looks at him. “Do you?”

“I’m no... What did Kallie call you? A lycagrochiord? Whatever it is, I’m not half wolf. But I do have quite a temper on me. How did you think I got my title, Hellbent Executor?”

Cerbenris smirks a little. “In all honesty, I thought you just did that to be edgy.” Ashfall frowns. “But I haven’t quite seen your outbursts yet, I think. Good to know.”

There’s more silence for a few seconds. Cerbenris didn’t fully trust Ashfall and Drip yet, but he was comfortable enough to share his feelings. That, at least, was a good sign that he was warming up to them.

“Pardon my asking, but...” Cerbenris trails off. It would probably be a sensitive subject. “You guys have been traveling for a while now... Do you ever think of... Home?” Ashfall shrugs, having nothing to say. Drip also remains silent. A hint of sadness glints in his eyes.

“I’ve been away from home for about a year now,” Cerbenris says. “Places like these... Wooded areas, lakes, far away from civilization... It reminds me too much of home. I’d like to go back. But at this point...” He shakes his head, chastising himself for trying to believe in such an impossible notion. “Well... I’m here now. I can’t face my village—my family—anymore. After all I’ve done...”

“I was never able to face my family.” Drip says. Cerbenris looks up at him. Defiance lurks somewhere deep within Drip’s quiet and unassuming eyes. “Rather... They were never able to face me. My whole family is made up of healers. Each one calls on spirits to aid them.” The Aloe sloshes his leaf around in the lake a little. “Except for me. I was rejected by my family. I don’t have much motivation to go back.”

Cerbenris glances at Ashfall. The Fire Peashooter stands and returns to the village silently, leaving Drip and Cerbenris alone.

“And then I show up...” Cerbenris ponders. “I’m sorry, Drip. I had no idea. Watching me commune with my spirits...”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m happy for you.” Drip looks Cerbenris in the eye. “May I ask you something? You’re a shaman, but that knife...”

“Oh, this.” Cerbenris twirls the dagger in his hand. The blade is black, chipped and honed from obsidian. Jungle wood wrapped in animal hide formed the handle. The razor edges and the handle closest to the blade are faintly stained red. “I’ve had this guy since I was five. It was my first weapon. Made it myself. Named it, too: Pointey. A childish name, yes, but he’s served me well. A hunter needs a knife.”

“A hunter?” Drip asks nervously. “At five years old?”

“Oh, right. I’ve only been a shaman for about two years now. My village trains hunters, not magicians.” Cerbenris clasps the blade closer to his heart. “To think that I’d train with those weapons for fourteen years and now not even use one... Feels like I wasted my life up until now, almost.”

Drip nods. Cerbenris knew that Drip had no clue what he was talking about.

The Aloe stands up to leave. “Anyway... It was nice to talk to you. Come back when you’re ready, alright? We need you.”

Cerbenris nods. He looks at his knife after Drip leaves, thinking once again about his surroundings. I guess I can do one little reverie...

Reflections for the Future
Cerbenris pressed the blade against the leaf of his index finger, drawing a little bit of blood; the blood that was his life, his death, and his greatest source of power.

The poisonous, purple liquid dripped from his finger into the pond, creating ripples in the still water. “Q’yucusq it s’ba xulz xic’lz, x’bi qa’a oll,” he said, speaking in his native language, “d’cohs va jiec muquih, qi s’bos u voj ya’ac uhsi s’ba lumaq it s’biqa uh v’j yoqs.”

The ripples give way to a shimmering image in the water. For the first time in several months, Cerbenris saw his village once again. Things were almost normal. Children were play fighting, unaware that it was part of their training. Adults were cooking, making tools, and overall doing their typical work. His old friends, too, were still dragging in the loot of a successful hunt and playing pranks on everyone. The only difference was his absence—and no one seemed to mind. Cerbenris smiled sadly. He had either been forgotten, or the village had accepted his disappearance. He decided to believe that the latter was correct.

As Cerbenris stood to return to the village, the image shimmered and changed. The young shaman stopped in his tracks.

The water’s surface showed him an old friend—the very same he had thought about earlier—struggling. Cerbenris watched wide-eyed as red-tinted darkness surrounded the Cattail, entering her mouth as she struggled to resist. She tried to recite a spell, but the sheer volume of physical shadow choked her mid-incantation. With a piercing scream, the Cattail falls to the ground. She stood, and a glowing rune—the same Cerbenris had tried to purge before—formed over her head, this time glowing an eerie red.

“Wooooolf....” The possessed mage hissed. Cerbenris was paralyzed; the incantation wasn’t supposed to generate sound. “'I... See... You...'”

The boy swiped at the image in the water, disturbing the water and dissipating the vision. Cerbenris sat again. He didn’t realize how hard he had been breathing. Nor did he realize that he had partially transformed into a Lycan.

“Lupai...” He whispered shakily. “Spirits help me... Like so many others, your gift has developed its own curse...”

Cerbenris stood and started back to the village, struggling to regain his composure. As his posture straightened, so did his resolve.

''Neko... I swore on the River Styx that you would be cleansed. I thought I’d finished the job... But I guess now I have to keep my promise.''