Deep within the Forbidden Forest, sunlight surrenders its dominion to an oppressive canopy of gnarled branches. Here, beneath a twilight sky perpetually choked by shadows, stands a monstrosity defying the boundaries of nature. It is neither plant nor beast, but a grotesque tapestry woven from forbidden magic. Black veins, like the cracked arteries of a dying god, writhe across its bark, pulsing with a faint, malevolent luminescence.

Its branches, gnarled like the claws of a skeletal hand, twist and writhe in obscene contortions, defying the familiar geometries of the woods. From these contorted limbs hang forbidden fruit – BloodApples. Their skin isn't just apple red, but a shade so deep it bleeds into crimson at the edges, glossy with a sheen that seems obscenely wet. The air around them is thick with a cloying sweetness, a metallic tang that twists the senses and burrows into the mind like a burrowing parasite.

This intoxicating perfume is a siren song to the unsuspecting creatures who call this desolate place home. A squirrel, its fur matted with fear, inches closer, drawn by an unnatural compulsion. Its beady eyes, once bright with life, are now glazed with a horrifying hunger. It ignores the frantic beating of its tiny heart, the primal urge to flee overwhelmed by the insidious whispers of the MonsterTree.

A twitch in its whiskered nose. A subtle shift in the wind, carrying a sickly-sweet perfume that promised forbidden delights. The squirrel, its fur dull with a creeping terror, emerged from the undergrowth. Each hop closer to the monstrous tree was a battle against its primal fear. Yet, an unseen hand gripped its tiny mind, pulling it inexorably towards a fate far worse than any predator.

With a pathetic squeak, the creature was snatched from mid-air. Not by a talon or a snapping jaw, but by a writhing root that erupted from the forest floor in a grotesque parody of a welcome. The once vibrant life in the squirrel's eyes dimmed to a horrifying hunger mirroring the crimson gleam of the BloodApples overhead. A sickening crunch echoed through the silent woods as the root squeezed the life from its tiny form, leaving behind a desiccated husk.

But this offering was merely bait. The discarded carcass lay limp, a testament to the chilling efficiency of the MonsterTree. It craved not flesh, but its essence. The crimson droplets that dripped from the mangled form were not absorbed by the dry earth, but by the very root itself, vanishing in a blink.

A low growl shattered the oppressive silence. A FangWolf, its massive form a silhouette against the dying light, caught a whiff on the tainted breeze. It wasn't the sweet, cloying scent of the BloodApples this predator got drawn to, no, it was the faint, metallic tang of fear and desperation clinging to the lifeless squirrel.

A predator at heart, the FangWolf approached with cautious hunger. It scanned the clearing, its keen senses searching for an ambush. The silence mocked its vigilance. The mangled squirrel, an unnatural red staining its lifeless fur, lay exposed. A gift, too perfect to be true. Yet, the primal urge to feed outweighed suspicion.

A monstrous head dipped towards the offering. The very second its jaws snapped shut, the forest floor erupted. Three thick, ebony roots shot up, coiling around the FangWolf's legs in a vice-like grip. He roared in fury, gnashing at the bindings with its razor-sharp teeth. But the roots held fast, their unnatural strength fueled by the darkness at the tree's heart.

One by one, the FangWolf fought free. Muscles bulged, teeth scraped against unyielding wood. But with each victory, a new root erupted, they were coiling around his neck, squeezing the breath from his lungs. The world began to spin, the sweet, alluring smell of the BloodApples a final insult as its vision faded to black.

The MonsterTree did not crush its prey like the hapless squirrel. Instead, it hoisted the FangWolf aloft, a monstrous marionette dangling lifelessly from a gnarled branch. A single crimson droplet dripped from the FangWolf's maw, feeding a hidden root nestled beneath the carcass. This macabre trophy, a chilling reminder for any creature foolish enough to approach, was the gruesome sight that greeted the DemiRabbit hunters as they emerged from the treeline.

Their twitching noses, usually drawn to plump berries, now led them not to a delectable treat, but to this scene of carnage. A FangWolf dangled lifelessly from the BloodAppleTree, its fur matted with drying blood, a stark testament to the tree's deadly power.

"Well, well," the HuntMaster chuckled, her voice a touch too high-pitched. "Looks like someone beat us to the feast."

The other hunters shifted nervously. The FangWolf was no easy prey, and its demise served as a chilling reminder of the tree's power.

"Maybe the tree got hungry," one whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Hungry?" The HuntMaster's eyes gleamed with a predatory light. "Or perhaps... pickier?" She tapped the wooden bucket filled with a crimson liquid.

The rabbits hopped closer, their fear a constant low hum beneath their forced cheer. "Should we… water it anyway?" one asked hesitantly.

"Of course," the HuntMaster purred. "A thirsty friend is a cranky friend."

As the crimson liquid splashed onto the roots, a sense of unease settled over the clearing. The roots writhed with unnatural fervor, almost… appreciative.

The buckets emptied, but the roots danced on, a grotesque display of hunger. "It seems to like it," the HuntMaster noted with a nervous smile.

As if on cue, a shower of BloodApples rained down from the branches. "Oh! A gift?" a young hunter squeaked, his eyes wide with a mix of excitement and terror.

The HuntMaster chuckled. "A bucket of blood for a bucket of fruits. A generous gift, wouldn't you say?"

The rabbits filled their buckets with the crimson fruit, their joy laced with a cold dread. Just as they were about to leave, a sickening creak echoed through the woods. A WolfWang corpse tumbled down from the canopy, landing with a sickening thud.

The young hunter gasped, his face pale. "Tree, that's a bit much, isn't it?"

But the roots disagreed. With a disturbingly purposeful movement, they began nudging the corpse towards the rabbits, shoving it like a gruesome plaything.

"Is it trying to… to offer this to us?" a hunter whispered, a dark humor flickering in his voice.

"Maybe," the HuntMaster agreed, her eyes fixed on the carcass. "Perhaps it doesn't care for FangWolf anymore?” Perhaps it wants something fresher?"

A shiver ran through the rabbits. "Well, we appreciate the … the gift," the HuntMaster finally said, her voice strained. "We'll definitelly water you more often," she nodded promising.

A single root emerged from the ground, mimicking a grotesque nod. With their harvest fiished, the rabbits, burdened by their buckets overflowing with blood-red apples, began their hop back to the village.

As they walked, whispers filled the air. "Remember when this tree used to give us nightmares?" the HuntMaster muttered, her voice barely a whisper.

"Yeah!” The young one squeeked, "Yet, Master says it's a friend!"

The HuntMaster's eyes flickered with a dark glint. "Friend or not, it feeds on blood, doesn't it?"

"And those damn roots..." another chimed in, his voice laced with a shiver.

"Hush! You wouldn't want Master to hear that." The young rabbit shot them a panicked glance.

The HuntMaster chuckled. "Relax," she said. "He would understand. After all, the tree just brought down a FangWolf. Imagine the next offering..."

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken dread.

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"Maybe a Dire Boar? Easy pickings for the tree, I'd say," a hunter broke the silence.

"Maybe even an Erymanthian..."

"Now that, that's pushing its luck. Even for a tree like this.”

The rabbits continued their trek, their light chatter a thin veil over the chilling truth. The BloodAppleTree, their so-called friend, had just shown them its true power, and the question gnawed at them – who would be its next target? Were they truly allies, or merely the next sacrifice waiting to be harvested?

…

A prickling unease crawled up the HuntMaster's fur as she emerged into a clearing. The familiar silhouette of the village was shrouded in an unnatural darkness, punctuated by flickering torches. Silence, thick and heavy, hung in the air. "Something's terribly wrong," she snarled, the fur on her back bristling.

With a silent command, the other hunters unleashed an EnergyBurst each, tripling their hopping speed as they raced towards the village. Reaching the outskirts, their worst fears were confirmed. The peaceful haven they called home was a scene of utter chaos. Destroyed huts smouldered, littering the ground with debris. Rabbit Villagers, eyes wide with terror, huddled together, their usual chatter replaced by panicked squeaks.

The HuntMaster, hot rage churning in her belly, grabbed a trembling villager by the shoulders. "Spit it out! What happened here?"

"B-beasts! They came out of nowhere!" the villager stammered.

Another bloodcurdling shriek pierced the air, drawing their attention to the back of a ruined hut. A monstrous black canine emerged, its powerful jaws clamped around a hapless villager. The HuntMaster's breath hitched. "Wargs? No… this isn't a common breed," she snarled, activating her Inspect ability.

Title: Mr Poochy

Class: [Beast] lvl.8

Magic Affinity: None

Race: Warg

Variant: Black

>>>[🐺]<<<

HP:150

MP:0

STA:150

Skills

[Bite], [BloodHowl]

Perks

[ThickHide], [PackPredator]

Tags

[Monster], [Tamed]

A surge of energy flowed through her, revealing the creature's data: a BlackWarg. It was larger and more muscular than the scrawny wargs they encountered in the forest, its pelt as black as a moonless night. Unlike regular wargs, it possessed ThickHide and the terrifying ability known as BloodHowl.

The warg raised its head, spitting the lifeless form of the villager onto the ground with a sickening thud. It locked eyes with the HuntMaster, its feral grin revealing dagger-like teeth. This wasn't a beast afraid of a fight. It was hungry, savage, and revelling in the chaos.

A guttural roar erupted from the beast's throat, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. *GRRR! RAAWR!*

"Engage!" the HuntMaster roared back, pointing her trusty TuskImpaler Spear at the monstrosity. "[Pounce]!" In a blur of fur and muscle, she launched herself at the BlackWarg, her spear a deadly ivory streak.

The BlackWarg, overconfident from its easy prey, reacted sluggishly. The HuntMaster's attack connected, the spear tip finding purchase in the creature's thick shoulder with a sickening crunch. But it wasn't enough. Enraged by the pain, the warg lashed out with a vicious snap, its razor-sharp fangs sinking deep into the HuntMaster's chest and upper arm.

“Gahh!” A scream ripped from her throat, but thankfully, her Lucky perk deflected the blow from her vital organs.

Seeing the HuntMaster falter, one of the hunters charged towards the warg from its side. “Let her go! [Tackle],” he lunged desperately. It was a reckless move, but it knocked the wind out of the beast, forcing it to pry its jaws open.

"HuntMaster, heal up! [Flurry]," the third hunter yelled, diving between the warg and the injured HuntMaster.

Desperate for survival, the HuntMaster fumbled for her pouch, pulling out two crimson BloodApples. The metallic tang of blood filled her mouth as she shoved the half-chewed chunks down her throat, the sweet, corrupting taste barely registering in her frantic mind. The familiar warmth of healing spread through her, bringing a surge of HP just as the BlackWarg was about to pounce again.

[HP +10], [HP +10], …

Miraculously, the gaping wounds on the HuntMaster's torso sealed shut, a testament to the raw power of the BloodApples. But the euphoria was short-lived. Her TuskImpaler Spear remained lodged deep in the BlackWarg's shoulder, useless for now.

With a flash of agility, she closed the distance with a series of Hop, her trusty WargFang Dagger glinting in the firelight.

“[Hop]”, “[Hop]”, the other hunters followed suit, flanking the beast with a coordinated manoeuvre, momentarily confusing the warg's primal instincts.

The BlackWarg roared in frustration, *GRRR! SNAP!*, its jaws snapping at empty air.

“Too slow!” The HuntMaster seized the opportunity, ducking under its massive head and slashing at its flank with her dagger. A crimson gash opened on the beast's side, but her victory cry died in her throat. The wound, though painful, seemed to have little effect on the enraged creature.

“[Strike]”, “[Flurry]”, a flurry of attacks from the other hunters followed, their spears striking true. But like gnats attacking a bear, their blows barely dented the BlackWarg's ThickHide. The monster, fueled by a dark savagery, danced around the hunters, shrugging off their attacks with shocking resilience.

A cold dread gripped the HuntMaster. A normal Warg wouldn't be this tough. This was no ordinary beast. Her intuition screamed at her. Their HP bars were depleting steadily under the barrage of relentless attacks, while the BlackWarg seemed untouched. Its eyes, devoid of any fear, held a chilling intelligence.

With another Hop, she evaded a vicious bite, then launched herself at the warg, aiming for its exposed snout. Her Pounce attack connected with a satisfying crunch, splitting open the beast's nose with a spray of blood. This, however, seemed to be the only weak point they'd discovered.

For a fleeting moment, a flicker of fear darkened the BlackWarg's eyes. But it was quickly replaced by a horrifying grin. “A-OO-OO!” A bone-chilling howl ripped through the air, a wave of raw power that slammed into the rabbits like a physical blow. This was presumably its BloodHowl.

“Gah!”, “Ugh!”, “Argh!”

A Stunned debuff flashed across their vision, their movements sluggish and uncoordinated. The BlackWarg, seized with bloodlust, capitalized on their vulnerability. Its powerful jaws snapped shut around one of the hunters in a sickening display of violence. The limp body was thrown aside like a ragdoll.

The other hunter, caught off guard, was sent flying into a nearby hut with a vicious kick from the beast’s hind legs. In a mere three seconds, the tide of battle had turned. Two of her comrades lay broken and bloodied, their fates hanging by a thread.

The HuntMaster, pinned beneath the BlackWarg's massive paw, felt a surge of primal terror. The rotten breath of the beast washed over her, its dagger-like fangs mere inches away from her throat. Desperate, she slammed her fist against the ground, a futile attempt to activate the EnergyBurst skill.

Just then, a sudden commotion erupted, a whirlwind of dust and chaos obscuring her vision. Had someone arrived to help? A flicker of hope sparked within her, quickly extinguished by the weight of the BlackWarg pinning her down.