This is my first attempt at writing on this site. I have no idea if it will do well, or bomb, but regardless I will write this story, short or long to it's end. It is to practice my storytelling, and world weaving skills. I hope that those who read it enjoy the ride, and for those who dislike it, to each there own.
The first few portions of this will likely be slow, as I am focused on the initial building of the world, and several key characters within the story. Just a warning for those that dislike story, and prefer extreme fast paced graphical display. Each segment will be as descriptive as I can make it without going overboard, and it will also have several portions throughout the story that are graphically gore, and violence related. This is not a happy story, it will not likely end on a good note. You have been warned.
PR credit to Roguemist.
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The female has been laying there for hours in child birth. One could hardly fathom why it was taking one who was rumored to be a powerful member of her species, so long to give birth to the next group of Berserkers . She was a breeder, it was her sole purpose after losing viability as a warrior from too many battles. For myself, I looked down upon the panting and groaning female, tawny fur covering her powerful frame, and thought only one thing. Weak, she would die giving birth to these four cubs, for Berserkers were always born in four. It was how his people are wired. Give birth while in there leonine form, and it would be four cubs that came out instead of one child.
Sighing, he debating on ending her life, and ripping the mewling runts from her womb to end the display. He was there originator, there beginning. He was the Blood Father to the Pridelings, his children. Born and bred for war, power was all they valued. Death and violence is there trade. They are still few, only numbering within the hundreds of thousands. But they had decimated multiple tribes surrounding their home, the ancient forest of Hyborium.
Using this forest as the base, the berserker offspring as their shock troops while slowly building breeding programs for other desired traits within their respective bloodlines, he had all but ensured there glorious start upon the world's surface. One so embroiled in war, that peace was an almost foreign and unknown concept.
Once more looking down upon the panting female, he glares with his single remaining eye, amber in color, and reached down to slit her throat. he grew tired of it. Upon slitting the females’ throat, his guard watching impassively, her blood sprayed in an arc outward as a single pain filled roar echoed through the chamber before the life dimmed within her own amber eyes.
Upon killing the female, he reached down and ripped her stomach open, her organs spilling outward even as she released her bowels. Pulling her stomach and intestines out, he reached within her womb. Ripping it out, his eye widened slightly in surprise, there was only a single cub, and what seemed like...bones within the womb. Tearing into it, he pulled a single cub from within, still gnawing on a bone. It dropped the bone when it realized it had been picked up by the scruff of its neck by something larger, and from the smell, dangerous the little cub fought with all its strength. I ignored it, the whelp was useless and hardly a threat at this age. But what interested me was that it had apparently killed and devoured its brothers and sisters within the womb. A pure berserker, the first. His breeding program showed progress with this one success. The loss of the mother may have been regrettable, but the result outweighed her life by miles. Smiling, showing off my fang filled mouth at the cub who had his amber eyes trained upon me as it struggled, I growled lightly causing the whelp to freeze and piss itself...Weak, but that would be beaten out of him soon enough. This single cub was born for war. "Rage" I said, his name. Simple, and appropriate. He would be named for what he was, the rage of his people made manifest.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
One of my guards stepped forward momentarily. "Blood Father, we are running late. The Ten will begin to worry." he ended the statement with a cough as I glared at him. The Ten, the first of my children to be made were also the strongest, and most frighteningly loyal. Following them came my Black Guard, of which two were currently shadowing me. But it hardly mattered. They could wait. "You" I said, a light growl punctuating the word, as with everything. My voice had developed a growling deep, almost beastial tenure. "Tell them I will be there momentarily, and you. Take this whelp to the training grounds. He will be useful. Ensure the instructor knows I have a special interest in the cub. Use the harshest, cruelest methods to forge him into a machine of war and death." Tilting my head slightly to the side, I add smiling, a plan forming. "Make sure he takes around thirty other berserker cubs, age does not matter as long as they are below a month old, and raise them with this one. Rage will grow attached, and then the true training begins." Both guards promptly saluted, one rushing to the Ten, and the other taking the mewling Rage and heading to the training pits. Yes, he would grow strong, and serve his purpose, as would the fodder he will be raised with.
Many would think me cruel, but they would not be of my people, my Pridelings, they would be outsiders attached to familial duties, and things that they felt outweighed the life of their species, or people. Not mine, each one looked toward the best interest of the species as a whole, regardless of the ones that fell as stepping stones to build them into the inheritors of this world, and one day that would be the case. He would ensure it. Life was fleeting, regardless of how long one lived, but a people, a legacy, a true mark was eternal. Even one thought of as evil. Smiling without baring his fangs, the Blood Father walked slowly toward the council chamber to speak with his Ten. Silently looking forward to the time when that cub, Rage, grew strong. For war is what he was born for.
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Whelp, that's the first part from a perspective other than the main character who was just born. I don't believe this was very long, but I also wrote it somewhat quickly while being at work. Hope you enjoy. Depending on how I feel, likely have several portions up tomorrow.