History
***DISCLAIMER***
So you've decided to brave Cyrus' history page eh? Let me warn you ahead of time that there is a lot of graphic content and sadness in his history, and if you don't tend to do well with those kinds of things...I implore you to just skip reading this.
So you've decided to brave Cyrus' history page eh? Let me warn you ahead of time that there is a lot of graphic content and sadness in his history, and if you don't tend to do well with those kinds of things...I implore you to just skip reading this.
Spring rain fell down softly to earth, touching all things with a gentle caress as it tended to the earth. As this life-giving rain fell down to earth, another miracle of life was occurring not too far away. In a cave, dug out of rich clay earth that had once carried a river, a female wolfman was giving birth. The long painful whines and panting indicated that she was well along in the process of labor, and then there was suddenly silence...followed swiftly by the sound of soft new voices calling for their mother's attention. Unfortunately on this particular day it might have been better had one of the pups never been born...
Frella let out an exhausted whoosh of breath, taking a few moments to collect her energy before attending to her pups. It was her first litter, and pride filled her, all of the others in her pack had told her that at her age there was no way she could conceive. But she had proved them wrong, oh yes, and once she displayed her perfect pups to the pack they would almost certainly raise her to the greatest position of honour they could think of. A smug smirk lit her face and then she finally looked at her pups for the first time.
Wolfmen, you see, are a very peculiar species. Unlike the majority of the planet's population (which tend to be capable of morphing directly between animal or human or simply retaining the traits of certain animals) wolfmen are fully covered by fur and are truly almost completely like their feral forms except for the fact that they walk upright on two legs. To them all the other species in the land were inferior, and they were extremely prideful with the mantra that anything different deserved to die.
With this mentality in mind Frella looked at her children and felt a strangled shriek rip it's way from her throat. Among her two other beautiful, and normal, babies...a third pup lay there in a fully feral form, his small paws tucked underneath himself. Frella's head spun, and in that moment something cracked within her. She could hear the pack laughing at her, their voices ringing around her in a crazy cacophony of sound, "Ohhh look at Frella! Turns out she can't even bear pups properly! Look at that abomination! A Wolfmorph no doubt! What an embarrassment!" Her whine increased in pitch, her pupils dilating and her breathing becoming ragged. She would not let them see this monster, she would not let this abomination ruin her chances at happiness. With a rage that was terrifying to behold she snatched up the pup and threw him out of the cave into the rain, deaf to his squeaks of pain, blind to everything except her anger.
Snapping violently at him she sprang forward, grabbing his tail and shaking it aggressively, gnawing ferociously on it until it was elongated, kinked, and bloody. She turned her attention then to his ears, yanking on them with her teeth, as though she were trying to rip them out. Batting him about with her paws she landed a heavy blow to his snout, causing it to dent and gain a malformed appearance. She wasn't finished yet though. In vain she tried to snap his back, but being a wolfmorph he was far more flexible than anticipated, and instead of snapping it merely ended up hunching into a deformed shape. By this point her rage had abated, and Frella was left with only a vague sense of disgust. Turning away from her pup she lumbered back into her den and returned with three relics. The first was a necklace with a pendant on it that had been left to her by her now deceased mate. In Frella's mind he was the one responsible for this atrocity, and so she placed it around the barely-breathing pups neck. The next item was an earring that had been given to her as a reward by the pack leader, it seemed only fitting to put it on this thing that mocked all her hard work, so with a sharp needle she brutally punched two holes in his ears and put it on him. Finally there was a handcuff. It was intended to hobble prey so it could be taken back alive and then killed (making it fresher) but today it suited Frella's purposes far better. Attaching it to the little one's back legs she then grabbed the chain linking the two cuffs and carried him to the edge of the embankment, and without a single hesitation or a sign of remorse she dropped him and let him roll down it, hopefully to his death. Her first and final words to him, ones that he would always remember, "And I name you Cyrus you monster. A name which means "bestow care," let that name haunt and mock you for however long you live little monster. Just remember that not even your mother wants you, you are NOTHING."
With those words echoing in his newborn brain, Cyrus tumbled down the embankment, and by some stroke of fate his chain caught on a rock, and since it was an old and rusty pair of handcuffs half of it snapped off and was lost in the undergrowth, the rest staying attached to his leg. In that manner he found himself lying crumpled, in intense agony and terror, at the bottom of the embankment where he would surely die from starvation or the extent of his wounds, but someone else had beheld all of the things that had happened here, and though she bore no love to anyone but herself, the loss of her own litter that day and the state of this poor bedraggled beast touched her heart. So with a glimmer in her eye she picked him up gently by the scruff and took him away to nurse him. Yet if anyone had thought his suffering had begun and ended on that first day of his life...they were dreadfully wrong.
Frella let out an exhausted whoosh of breath, taking a few moments to collect her energy before attending to her pups. It was her first litter, and pride filled her, all of the others in her pack had told her that at her age there was no way she could conceive. But she had proved them wrong, oh yes, and once she displayed her perfect pups to the pack they would almost certainly raise her to the greatest position of honour they could think of. A smug smirk lit her face and then she finally looked at her pups for the first time.
Wolfmen, you see, are a very peculiar species. Unlike the majority of the planet's population (which tend to be capable of morphing directly between animal or human or simply retaining the traits of certain animals) wolfmen are fully covered by fur and are truly almost completely like their feral forms except for the fact that they walk upright on two legs. To them all the other species in the land were inferior, and they were extremely prideful with the mantra that anything different deserved to die.
With this mentality in mind Frella looked at her children and felt a strangled shriek rip it's way from her throat. Among her two other beautiful, and normal, babies...a third pup lay there in a fully feral form, his small paws tucked underneath himself. Frella's head spun, and in that moment something cracked within her. She could hear the pack laughing at her, their voices ringing around her in a crazy cacophony of sound, "Ohhh look at Frella! Turns out she can't even bear pups properly! Look at that abomination! A Wolfmorph no doubt! What an embarrassment!" Her whine increased in pitch, her pupils dilating and her breathing becoming ragged. She would not let them see this monster, she would not let this abomination ruin her chances at happiness. With a rage that was terrifying to behold she snatched up the pup and threw him out of the cave into the rain, deaf to his squeaks of pain, blind to everything except her anger.
Snapping violently at him she sprang forward, grabbing his tail and shaking it aggressively, gnawing ferociously on it until it was elongated, kinked, and bloody. She turned her attention then to his ears, yanking on them with her teeth, as though she were trying to rip them out. Batting him about with her paws she landed a heavy blow to his snout, causing it to dent and gain a malformed appearance. She wasn't finished yet though. In vain she tried to snap his back, but being a wolfmorph he was far more flexible than anticipated, and instead of snapping it merely ended up hunching into a deformed shape. By this point her rage had abated, and Frella was left with only a vague sense of disgust. Turning away from her pup she lumbered back into her den and returned with three relics. The first was a necklace with a pendant on it that had been left to her by her now deceased mate. In Frella's mind he was the one responsible for this atrocity, and so she placed it around the barely-breathing pups neck. The next item was an earring that had been given to her as a reward by the pack leader, it seemed only fitting to put it on this thing that mocked all her hard work, so with a sharp needle she brutally punched two holes in his ears and put it on him. Finally there was a handcuff. It was intended to hobble prey so it could be taken back alive and then killed (making it fresher) but today it suited Frella's purposes far better. Attaching it to the little one's back legs she then grabbed the chain linking the two cuffs and carried him to the edge of the embankment, and without a single hesitation or a sign of remorse she dropped him and let him roll down it, hopefully to his death. Her first and final words to him, ones that he would always remember, "And I name you Cyrus you monster. A name which means "bestow care," let that name haunt and mock you for however long you live little monster. Just remember that not even your mother wants you, you are NOTHING."
With those words echoing in his newborn brain, Cyrus tumbled down the embankment, and by some stroke of fate his chain caught on a rock, and since it was an old and rusty pair of handcuffs half of it snapped off and was lost in the undergrowth, the rest staying attached to his leg. In that manner he found himself lying crumpled, in intense agony and terror, at the bottom of the embankment where he would surely die from starvation or the extent of his wounds, but someone else had beheld all of the things that had happened here, and though she bore no love to anyone but herself, the loss of her own litter that day and the state of this poor bedraggled beast touched her heart. So with a glimmer in her eye she picked him up gently by the scruff and took him away to nurse him. Yet if anyone had thought his suffering had begun and ended on that first day of his life...they were dreadfully wrong.