Prologue

As long as we draw breath we shall keep fighting,

until the last drop of blood has been shed.

Sharpened claws and tempered blades clashing,

we are marching the march of the damned.

Thus is the truth of this world for all beings,

to stray from this truth will be your undoing.

…

The air was loaded with the smell of mud, smoke and burnt flesh. The fiery battlecries of desperate warriors and the frenzied howling of encroaching beasts drowned out even the thunderstorm blasting down on the dense canopy above.

The defending forces were disoriented and vulnerable under the heavy downpour and treacherous darkness, while their opponents exploited these inhumane conditions to their full extent. The terrified men could huddle together in in the most secure formations, but the pale monstrosity and its minions would emerge from the shadows and skillfully take out the weakest link in the spearwalls. Each time they retreated away from the clearings and into the chaotic woodwork, it was merely the calm before the storm, before the killing of another handfull of men would follow.

The attackers came as a savage horde, one that could only be described as possessed by violence – beasts both small and huge, but all unnaturally relentless in their overpowering onslaught. Even the sharpest spears would dull after striking their tough flesh so many times, and even the heaviest armors were pried open at their blood-stained claws and flesh-rending teeth.

The young squire who inherited his mentor’s commanding position just a moment ago was leading the last line of defense. If he fell here, these demons would destroy everything he and the people of this land held dear.

Loading his crossbow with bloodied, sore fingers, he ordered the servants by his side to open the next large barrel of the pungent flamable mixture.

„We will sink this whole forest in flames if we have to! Give our enemies no quarter, only burned earth!“, he commanded in righteous anger. The oily substance was poured down the hill, but before the other servant could bring his torch near the mixture, a spear shot out from the dark and skewered him onto a tree with inhuman force.

Amongst the beasts were three which bore the greatest responsibility for this dire situation. One moment they were fast as the wind and uncatchable as shadows, and the next they mocked the human form to cross blades and break their victims’ formations. The smaller, grey one was the most troublesome, capable of using sinister arts and forcing those unruly creatures to attack in perfect coordination.

The grey demon was accompanied by two larger, jet-black individuals of its kind. One was a stocky, musclebound monster which rested a giant hatchet over its shoulder. The other, bearing marks of the spirits, was holding a growing ball of dark-red light in its clawed hand.

Soon enough, the bravest of souls who held back the enemies’ advance were no more as bursts of crimson witch-fire claimed them.

There was no way left for the squire but to run until his aching feet could carry him no more, and until his heart burst from exhaustion. Escaping this nightmare was all that mattered now. When there is no battle to be won, the least thing he could do was to survive and deliver the grim news.

„The outpost has fallen.“

And their empire shall be next.

…

Once upon a time, there existed a cursed stretch of land called "the screaming woods".

In the sinister caves of that land, a peculiar creature was born - A horrible thing bearing the memories of a human soul lost in the cycle of reincarnation.

These pages are dedicated to the blood-stained chronicles of that peculiar creature, which would later be known as the "lord of beasts".

…

It was a dark and stormy night, lit up only by the sudden, violent flash of lightning. Even the most fearless of animals dared not to leave their nests in terror of nature’s earth-shattering forces.

Yet, this was the perfect ambiente to bring about new life, for the deafening sounds drowned out the pained yowls and grunts of the creature that relentlessly pushed one small body after the other out of its own. Four whelps with a wet dark coat were delivered onto the heap of shed fur and old bones.

They appeared like large kittens at first glance, but their tails and front paws were covered in dark, lizard-like scales. In time they shall become as fearsome as their mother...

But their mother was not done yet.

After an agonizingly long time of labor, a small and light grey one, barely visible under a layer of blood and afterbirth, emerged.

After making sure of their life signs, I worldlessly congratulated the mother for her successful delivery. Without sound, I moved about the nest for a last time, to witness the first moments of the whelps' life. My meddling is done here, for I shall conserve my strength and return to the higher spheres.

My servant would look after them for now. "Gemini, you shall observe and guide these ones in my stead and report back to me", I call out to the demi-being in the shape of a common raven.

"But there is five of them!" He sqawked in annoyance. "Do not fret, Gemini. In this world, the weak are not for long. Your task may become easier with time", I assured him, knowing full well that he may end up as a meal once these younglings make their first hunting attempts.

The whelps diligently scrambled and stumbled towards the life sustaining teats, bare for the smaller, pale one who flailed around in helpless panic.

A feverish haze dominated the mind of this newborn. It felt weak, trapped, it's eyes firmly shut. Its conciousness was racing for answers to its situation, but it could do nothing but impotently mewl into the dark until a rough tongue promptly cleaned the remaining blood and mucus of its body.

"Someone... help me! No... this must be a nightmare...", Gemini deduced from the newborn's peculiar yelling. A creature this age using the universal tongue of beasts, like he does, would be quite the anomaly. It did not take long however for the weird one to be led towards a teat as well, sparing Gemini further oddities.

Back then, Gemini and I failed to realize that I may have brought a strange and stubborn wildcard into this world...

Chapter 1 – Runt

„And you I shall call 'Runt', hehe“ The annoying raven cackled as he decided on a name for the small, grey youngling. The whelps before her were given appropiate names based on the tongue of beasts as well: The heaviest brother was ‚Brute‘, the other brother with crooked teeth was named ‚Fang‘. There were two sisters as well, a loud and rambunctious one named ‚Fury‘ and a mischievous one who was given the name ‚Swift‘.

It took a bit more than a month of nuturing from their mother’s teat for Runt and her siblings to gain considerable weight and strength. The naming took place on the fourteenth day after birth, when their eyes have finally opened.

The younglings spent the first period of their lifes staggering around the nest and tumbling over eachother in their first attempts at playfighting.

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Within the darkness of the cave, Runt had no problems making out the shapes of her siblings. There was a tiny amount of light emitted from luminescent patches on the cave walls, which Runt assumed to be stars at first, but later discovered to be some type of lichen. She noticed her vision to be somewhat blurry along the upper and lower part of the image, but was able to pinpoint the sounds of all things within this cave with uncanny precision, and even managed to catch a fly by the buzzing of its wings alone. Naturally, her sense of smell was more refined than what she was used to, forcing her to gag a number of times at the stench of her own home.

As soon as she could walk, Runt has been somewhat distant from her siblings and instead took her time exploring the caverns connecting to the hidden nest. Her mother was away at this moment, hunting most likely.

Brute was fast asleep like a little hill, while Fang and Fury were sparring in the most savage manner their undeveloped bodies could muster. There was a faint smell of blood that grew stronger each time Fury threw herself at her brother.

Swift was nowhere to be found, as usual.

Most of the time up until now felt like an unconcious haze for Runt, but these few days she was finally able to become aware of her situation again, and remembered that nightmarish moment just after her birth, making her head ache. Being unable to sleep under her once again racing mind and the sounds of her siblings playing, Runt instead followed the scent of her mother towards the exit of the cave. Getting some fresh, actually tolerable air was the only thing on her mind now.

…

However, Runt’s adventure was soon to meet a literal roadblock as the usual passage to the surface was clogged by a finely woven plug of sticks and leaves, which bore a strong smell of mother. It was not the first time for Runt to venture away from the nest, and to her it was clear that mother errected this blockade on purpose, considering how angered she was at finding her daughter away from home last time.

As she was sitting in front of the blockade, Runt pondered whether she should simply give up for today, and also about how in the world a beast with no thumbs could create such such a handicraft by itself – „perhaps that dumb bird that called itself ‚Gemini’ helped with the construction?“

Soon enough, Runt’s thoughts were interrupted by a small pair of yellow eyes gleaming at her from the shadows of an alcove, peaking at her from the inside of a large pile of old bones and rotted pelts. „Swift, is that you?“, Runt whispered towards the creature. Slowly approaching the alcove, Runt noticed a light draft coming towards her. Suddenly, the silhoutte she believed to be Swift dissappeared further into the pile, leaving behind a small tunnel that was supported by a hollowed ribcage and lead further into the ground. Poking her head into the passage, Runt was able to confirm the faint smell of her sister – it was indeed Swift, and perhaps this was what she spent her time away from the nest with.

Being struck by curiosity, Runt decided to investigate. This hole would have been too small for her full-grown mother to pass through, but for kittens like her and Swift it was the perfect fit. As she went further and further, the draft increased and a light echo of droplets falling into water was to be heard. The path was illuminated by the same kind of lichen and moss that grew above her birth nest. The bones that made up the tunnel walls appeared to be of an older layer with every passing inch, and were soon replaced by a dense tangle of roots and ever more colorful varieties of glowing flora, upon which fed many kinds of oversized worms and isopods.

Making it past the hidden passage, Runt was soon greeted by what appeared as a small pond garden under a night sky, buzzing with many flying insects and many smaller amphibian creatures – Yet the echo of droplets told her that she was still in a cave far beneath the surface. Taking her time exploring the area, Runt noticed that the ‚stars‘ on the ceiling were actually yet another type of moss-like plant. There were also many different mushrooms growing here, as well as other breeds of peculiar plants that had thick, almost bulbous leaves in red and violett hues, and grew in a tangle rather than straight upwards.

Peaking into the murky waters of the cave pond, she spotted a lanky, long-bodied creature that made her jump with instinctive fear, but upon closer inspection turned out to be not a deadly serpent, but rather some kind of slow-moving newt with atrophied limbs and a faceless head.

Noticing that she has spent way too much time taking in her environment, Runt turned her head around to scan for Swift – and got a glimpse of a black, scaled tail disappearing behind the corner of yet another passage. There, too, was a noticable draft of air, and Runt diligently followed her sister’s trail.

This tunnel appeared to move upwards at a slow pace while taking a steady curve to the left. The right side of the path was not a solid wall, but rows of stalactites and stalacmites resembling rows of ferocious fangs, behind which there was a dense underbrush of even more darkness-loving cave flora.

As she followed the path further, she spotted gaps in the growth through which she was able to make out further caverns. Judging from the echoes and the distance of the light-emitting lichen, Runt assumed these halls to be more spacious than the little pond by multiple magnitutes.

She tried to make out the exact dimensions of this extended cave system from her vantage point – When suddenly, a loud thud and a sharp screech reverberated from below the cave, sending a freezing chill through Runts body that made her feel like she was falling down a deep pit.

She was still as a rock and could hardly breath as if something grasped her heart with cold, bony claws. Only after the longest five seconds of her life, she was able to break out of her petrification by sheer force of will and made a run for it, moving further up the path that promised to take her to the – hopefully less terrifying – surface world.

Further navigating through many more passages, Runt started to notice a distinct lack of insects. Though she was thankful for being left alone by pesky bloodsuckers and loud flies, she noticed a definite increase of sturdy-looking cobweb draping over stone walls and vegetation, sometimes even blocking entire tunnels. Soon enough, the creators of the sticky weave were spotted by Runt.

They were arachnids with the size of an opened human hand, crawling on stocky legs and covered in a black-and-white patterned fur. One of them has already caught prey – A dark-violet sparrow with just a single giant eye in place of its head.

So it appeared that these spiders, which the civilized races like to call „cotton-spiders“, were the ones that kept killing my valuable ‚spying eyes‘. Sadly, I have no further recordings on Runt as the remaining spying eye sent after her had suddenly expired as well, likely the work of another cotton-spider.

When I yelled at Gemini to take his job seriously and made him send another eye into the cave, Runt was already in bad shape. Her hind leg bore two little injection marks, and behind her laid the squashed corpse of a cotton spider.

She was slowly stumbling through the caverns, babbling unintelligeble nonsense through her beast tongue and occasionally took a break to hurl over and attempt to further unload her already empty stomach.

Runt’s senses were clouded and her ears ringing, while her mind was driven into a fever dream. As she crawled through the dark and damp underworld, she periodically entered visions of fierce battles in which she fought living shades in the form of beasts and humanoids alike. She tore through foes and obstacles with a great strength that was foreign to her, her bloodied claws illuminated with dozens of bright-white markings and unknown symbols.

When Runt came back to her senses, she was lying on her side in an unfamilar, tiny nest inside a small cave room. She felt surprisingly fine considering her situation, albeit with sore feet and aching muscles. Her scaly front paws were scratched up and she firmly grasped a handful of stone dust in one of them. Many of her claws had splintered off at the tips, as if she tried to dig into hard rock.

Going by the smell of the nest, Runt was convinced that it was her sister Swift who made herself comfortable here in a ‚private room‘ away from her troublesome siblings. Swift must have dragged her here by the scruff, though she was nowhere to be found.

Runt was fed up with caves, so after a short rest she decided to try the nearest tunnel from which fresh air flowed in, and finally made it through to the surface of the screaming woods.

...

„This is too long to be a dream...“, Runt thought out aloud as she was making her rounds. „And my memory feels like it has more holes than a beehive... If only that smug birdbrain could provide an answer".

She had emerged from the underbrush into a small clearing covered in moss and ferns. The sun was already setting into the deep-red horizon behind rows of trees that scraped the clouds, as the celestial bodies of this world’s night sky came into view: Two moons of which one bore a gentle blue hue, and another, smaller one colored in a light shade of green.

This was not her first time peeking into the outside world, but the sight was still mesmerizing to her.

Insects where buzzing and chirping all around, some of which she decided to call weirdly familiar names such as ‚Crickets‘ and ‚Fireflies‘. In the distance there was some manner of long-necked creature high as a tree and roaring in a reverberating voice almost too deep to notice. Above the canopy flew a pair of leather-winged beasts that screeched into the night like a duet of angry demons.

Her exploration was soon interrupted by a familiar voice:

„Well, well… If it isnt the runt. What a surprise to see you once again babbling to yourself. I almost thought you had gone mute since back then!“, Gemini cawed towards the pale-coated Runt from a low branch outside the cave entrance.

„I heard you want answers from me? I always assumed you were an incarnated spirit like I am, considering your abnormal mental faculties. But in the end, you are an incapable Runt with no memories and little fighting chance. Being the small and sickly one out of your pack is a rather harsh disadvantage, regardless of whatever knowledge or powers you may have carried over from your days as a spirit – if you have any of it left at all! I would say: Better luck in your next life!“

„Tell me at least why I am here! Did you make me become like this? Tell me everything you know!“, Runt replied, now visibly agitated.

„Oh, that should be none of your concern yet! You needn’t worry your tiny brain about the who-does-what-and-why, for the only role YOU have to play is to grow up and become strong – If you ever manage to make it so far!“

Being dissatisfied with the hurtful remarks and feeling her annoyance rising at Gemini’s unending ridicule, Runt set her mind to catching the raven and performed a clumsy hop towards his perching spot. As she was scratching the base of the branch and made it shake a little under full use of her body, Gemini simply flew of with a few lazy beatings of his wings, still making fun of the impotent whelp.

„Asshole! Fight me you bitch!“, Runt growled and hissed after Gemini. „Ah yes, the dirty mouth of one who licks their own arse“, Gemini spat towards the runt from a distance. „Cherish your misery while you still can!“, He screeched in the ugliest voice he could muster.

Not long after the battle of insults ended, Runt was startled by something soft bumping against her side – It was her sister Swift, who stared at Runt with large, yellow eyes. Runt looked back at the dark feline creature, but chose to lose their staring contest when a sound of claws hooking into the woodwork above was heard.

Carrying between its hand-length fangs some manner of large iguana, another, much larger feline with rippling muscles descended onto the clearing with a loud pounce. Its dark, scale-armored front limbs reeked of blood and dirt, and the powerful, equally scaly tail was dripping a noxious fluid. Amber-colored eyes with slit pupils threw a menacing glance towards the two tiny sisters.

It was Runt’s mother, which bore the name of ‚Stalker‘.

„Go back. To. The. NEST.“, Stalker ordered her daughters in rough beast-tongue. Both irritation and concern were noticable in her tone. Being given no other choice, Swift reluctanctly left for the nest and mewled towards Runt to follow.