EXCERPT FROM WOLVZ
WHISPERS OF WAR
TONEYE
EYENOT
Copyright ©
2017 by Toneye Eyenot
1.
Night
of the Luniacs
(The
First Slaughter)
Terrified, agonised screams echo throughout darkened
lanes, and blood-soaked streets are littered with the mangled human debris.
Survivors scramble for the presumed safety of indoors. There is no hiding… no
escaping. This is our night. Our glorious night, awash with the radiance of the
Moon at her fullest. A night I share with my lupine sisters and brothers, in a
bloody orgy of murderous lunacy.
Claude is our Alpha. A charismatic leader, both in human
skin and in his true form. He saunters casually through the chaos, swatting
nonchalantly at the frantic and piss-weak prey like annoying insects, as the
pack rampages through the insultingly named town of Wolfhaven.
Wolfhaven…grrrr. This place isn’t, and hasn’t been for a
long time, a haven for our kind. The surrounding forest, our home for hundreds
of years, has gradually been decimated and reduced in its splendour to nearly
half by these parasitic humans. They have hunted and killed many of our
brethren; in their quest for domination of a land that never belonged to them,
so now they pay in blood and eviscerated gore.
I am Shona, a fourth generation, pureblood Lycan bitch.
Tonight is an especially personal one for me. In fact, this raid is executed in
honour of my fallen mother, Pharo. She was the latest casualty, and the
unforgivable spark, that has ignited this hellish war on the human population
of our territory. It won’t end here, either. Claude has shared his vision with
the pack. It is a plan that will see the demise of the human race, and a
welcome end to the raping of this wondrous planet. It begins here, right now,
in Wolfhaven, and will spread like a plague such as never before seen.
* * *
A wretch stumbles and falls at my feet. The sweat of this
thing beneath me reeks of fear and panic, intensified as I pin it to the ground
under my paw. Mesmerised by the vengeful blaze in my eyes, it remains still,
petrified. Only the desperate pounding of its weak heart betrays it as still
living.
As my glare burns through its face, my weight slowly
pressing on the brittle ribcage, I imagine this one with an entirely different
expression, as it parades through town with my dead mother held proudly aloft.
I recall how once Pharo strode proudly through the forest, her head held high,
eyes bright with intelligence and her chest tight with emotions that some think
we don’t feel: pride, loyalty, regret, and affection. When she was slaughtered,
she held back her whimpers of agonizing pain and locked rage-filled eyes on her
predator, brave and beautiful to the end, her gaze promising retribution of the
most terrible sort. When it carried her up in the air as if she were its
personal trophy, Pharo was lifeless, her fur incinerated, eyes closed on the
severed head resting precariously on her chest, and without the spark of fearlessness
she was known for. She was just a bag of charred flesh and no more; she was no
longer splendid.
She was far more to me than a trophy. She was the
ignition of my fury and the pitiful being beneath my sharp claws is now the
nothing, the unimportant, weak, terrified thing that is the source of my wrath.
My snarling breath hot on its face, it gags on a scream,
as saliva drips from my jaw to fall and slide down the back of its throat. I
always like to revel in their fear and inhale it, but I have spent enough time
gloating with this prize. One by one, my claws penetrate the chest and then
slowly, I drag down, opening the body up from neck to groin. It screams. Its
final vision is of my gaping maw, descending to tear away its head from the
struggling body.
We are one hundred strong, our pack alone. Seventy of us
have descended upon Wolfhaven to exact our immediate revenge. The rest have
been assigned with the task of carrying out Claude’s greater plan. Sent out in
every direction, as emissaries, they are to spread this message of revolution
to all our Wolfkind. Our Wolhaven pack, and our Alpha, Claude in particular,
have a fierce reputation among the Lycans and Werewolves, all across the land
and sea. Territorial pissing will be put aside, for the most part, as we spread
our message of hate and the war on humanity begins. Wolfhaven is ground zero,
as the mangled corpses continue to pile up. The injured, we leave and move onto
the next. Snapped bones, crushed and ripped organs and muscles, and angled limbs
prevent them from fighting anymore; they are too injured to battle on but they
are not yet dead. Their cries indicate they wish to die, but they will heal; by
the full moon they will turn, and they will either join us, or be torn to
pieces by the pack.
The Lycan presence in the pack is still very strong, but
that will change under Claude’s plan. I am beginning to wonder if that’s a good
thing. The Wolfhaven pack is a merging of two; a significantly smaller pack
with a name which is now lost to me over the centuries, whose Alpha readily
submitted to the ever-dominant Claude. They did, however, boast a greater
number of Lycans in ratio to Werewolves, which didn’t escape Claude’s
attention. The Lycans of both packs bred vigorously, thus growing the Wolfhaven
pack to a formidable size.
The lesser, mixed blooded Werewolves are aggressively
discouraged to breed within the pack. Claude is very vigilant about maintaining
order amongst the hierarchy. Banishment and sometimes death is the result if
Werewolves are caught mating and Claude enforces it personally, with a
bloodsoaked claw. What does Claude know that the rest of us are unaware of?
Doesn’t he see the inevitable outcome, when the balance of power tips and the
half-casts outnumber the Pureblood? Our war on humanity may well become a three
sided battlefront, thus greatly weakening our cause. Our beloved Alpha is not
unwise. He never does anything without careful planning and consideration. This
couldn’t possibly have been an oversight on his behalf, so what exactly is his
‘Grand Plan’?
* * *
With each kill, the stench of hysteria mounts amongst the
populace of Wolfhaven. The mounting hysteria, in turn, spurs the pack on with
bloodlust abandon. There is truly no hope for any single one of these
parasites, as we systematically hunt, rend, and continue on our murderous
rampage. The dead are beginning to outnumber the living, and the screams of the
few who manage to slip away from the outskirts of town sound through the night,
as they are scented out and tracked down. It is imperative that nobody escape
our vengeful raid.
The element of surprise is a powerful advantage. Word
must not spread within the human population of our strategy to extend, town by
town, village by village. As our numbers swell and our territory expands, soon
we will move into the cities to continue the eradication. As it stands now, the
cities are victim only to the odd rogue Werewolf, or small and insignificant
renegade packs. Braving the threat of detection in pursuit of an endless,
tantalizing smorgasbord of human flesh, these lone wolves and rag-tag packs,
with no real structure or direction, present a threat to our plans. Without the
discipline of an organised pack, they are enslaved to their hunger, and kill
with abandon, jeopardising the widely held opinion that our kind are merely the
product of vivid imaginations.
* * *
I pick up the scent of a small child, as it cowers
beneath the corpse of its mother. Swiping the inert slab of decimated flesh and
bones from its helpless spawn, I gaze upon it with malice for a few moments.
Terror courses through its veins and I savour the moment. Slamming a vicious
paw down on its head, I proceed to gorge on its guts. The tender, sweet flesh
stirs my soul to rabid proportions as I devour this morsel.
Should I feel remorse? Hell no. Young and defenceless,
this child may be, but I know what they become. I know exactly what they grow
to be. Senseless, ignorant of the world they inhabit. Selfish and greedy,
destructive and cruel. Humanity is the single most vile blight on this planet,
and this small creature will only perpetuate the disease, if left to flourish
and proliferate.
No other species is so selfish and foolish as to take far
more from nature than what they give back; no other beings pillage the lands until
only dust remains or hunt their prey until it becomes extinct. We hunt for
protection, training, and food, and formerly without the cruelty we show now,
while they have always hunted for enjoyment - for trophies of our kind - with
extreme hatred and malice. Claude once explained it in a simple manner: only
they use terrible metal traps to maim and capture us, leaving us prone to their
hunters’ bullets or blades, and then leave us to rot into the forests, not even
returning to claim our glorious fur.
I think of how wasteful they are. How selfish and mean in
sprit. They have no loyalty between mates nor respect for order. Indeed, they
have not a bit of bravery or pride, and any compassion that the species ever
had, is certainly gone now. They care for only themselves, the individuals, not
the whole.
No sooner do I swallow my last mouthful, than a panicked
young man of around twenty years comes tripping over the mother’s discarded
corpse, sliding in the slick blood and bits of offal left from the small child
to fall hands and knees at my side. He shrieks with shock as the child’s
lifeless blue eyes stare back at him. I turn my head slowly, with a lupine leer
of malice. This one could prove useful to the cause.
He falls stiffly over and onto his side in submissive
terror, eyes wide and mouth agape in a voiceless scream. My contemptuous growl
rolls and turns in the pit of my stomach; reverberates through my chest to
spill out onto the gore laden breeze, while this creature lays petrified. I
would sooner have this thing for a meal, than allow it to turn. Tonight, in my
eyes, is a mission of vengeance, but Claude had been very explicit in his
orders for this raid. Who am I to disobey the Alpha? I spring from the remains
of the child I have just devoured, to land heavily on the prone human filth.
Its silent scream suddenly finds a voice, as my bloodied fangs tear into its
shoulder. It takes every ounce of my will to not keep tearing, but I rise from
its mauled body and bound away, enraged by what was deprived of me, and now
stirred into a frenzied search for one not so suited to my reluctant mercy. I
am just getting started.
Surveying the street, I am struck with an ardent sense of
urgency. The pickings grow slimmer by the moment. We had descended upon the
populace in silence. Our numbers were easily enough to surround the small town
completely. Our stealth and cunning leaving them vulnerable and completely
unaware that these were to be the final minutes of their human lives. With a
howl that tore through the night, like gravel rubbed between two plates of
steel, at Claude’s command, the circle closed on Wolfhaven.
Seventy strong, we stormed the town. Nobody saw it
coming. Nobody expected to see massive hulks of snarling, yipping fur, and
gleaming, salivating fangs in every direction they turn. Claude had stayed back
from the town, and near the trees. His command to strike would have just been
taken by the townsfolk as the howl of an ordinary wolf, and paid no heed, as he
rushed swiftly and silently through the night to join us in the slaughter.
Every thirty or so feet around the perimeter, one of the pack would stay back,
to run down any stray humans who manage to slip through the luniac circle of
death. The rest of us went in for the kill. There was no way in any Hell I was
going to be waiting for scraps outside. Tonight is my night, more than
anyone’s.
We’ve all lost family before, but my mother was loved by
all the pack. She had indeed taken on the role as Mother to the Wolfhaven pack.
There was that, plus the death of Pharo is still fresh in the minds and hearts
of every pack member. She embodied the essence of what a mother should be:
kind, comforting, wise and brave, strong and swift, because that is what she
taught all of the litter-cubs. We had all tried to mimic her graceful gait and
her prideful carriage, we pretended to be as kind and clever as we hunted frogs
and mice, sometimes allowing them escape and sometimes pouncing. We ended up
tripping on our own small feet before we learned, but in our minds, she had
always had flawless grace. In our hearts, she was perfection.
A growl escapes my throat as my fury returns and I try to
escape the memory of seeing her lifeless corpse.
The humans had played their final hand, and we are now
biting it off.
The pungent smells of blood and eviscerated flesh, and
the sight of small piles and scattered bodies of the dead and gravely wounded
are assaulting my senses, cheering me somewhat, although it does little to
assuage my anger. I walk slowly through the corpse littered street. My mind is
in turmoil. I need to calm down, but my craving to tear these things to shreds
is overwhelming. I’m trying to regain some focus, and differentiate the smells
and sounds of the already fallen from that of the ones who may still be in
hiding.
Just as I begin to find some semblance of calm… there it
is. I hear a whisper carried on the wind, from an upstairs window to my left.
Instantly, I charge the building, bursting through the
flimsy door and up the stairs. As I reach the top, I stop and listen. The air
is cleaner in here and I breathe it slowly in through my nose. To the left…
there’s somebody in that room. Several people, in fact, I pick up as I quietly
approach the closed door. Standing silently for a moment, and hearing panicked
whispering and quiet sobs, I rise to two feet, clench my fists and hammer it
clear across the spacious bedroom. The whispers turn to screaming, as my
hulking form engulfs the splintered doorway.
I set my gaze around the room. There is an entire family
holed up in here. Three generations of living, screaming flesh huddle in the
furthest corner of the room. A grandfather and grandmother, a daughter in her
mid to late twenties and her husband, who looks to be at least forty, and a
little baby grandson, whose screams are louder than the rest of the family
combined. The husband does his best to look brave, by stepping forward shakily
in defence of his wife, child and the in laws. I push my way through the
doorway and into the room to meet him. He stops advancing as I stand to near my
full height. I still need to bow my head slightly beneath the high ceiling. I
step towards this fool and give him a dismissive wave of my claws, taking half
his face off, and sending him headfirst into the wall across the room. I will
save you for later.
The grandparents futilely attempt to shield their
daughter and her precious offspring from my advance. The old ones can perish.
The child too. I am still undecided on the terrified young woman with her babe
held tight in her arms. See what kind of fight she puts up. I will allow the
husband to turn. He showed a bit of guts, so I won’t gorge on his. Leaning
forward with a snarl, my face comes to within inches of the trembling old
woman. Her husband punches me in the side. I let him. He screams at me to leave
her alone and continues to land punches wherever he can land them. As you wish,
you dried up piece of tough meat. Grabbing him by the head, I easily tear him
out of his wife’s arms and into my grasp, where I bite down on his neck. His
wife is hysterical and keeps running to help her husband and back again to
shield her daughter and grandchild, whilst I snap his collarbone in my powerful
jaws, and dig my claws into his stomach, tearing him open and spilling guts on
the floor in front of what remains of his family. Rending the flesh from chest
and shoulder, I toss the old meat aside.
All the while, my eyes have been locked on the young
mother, who is crying in a sing song voice and shaking uncontrollably with
horror, yet still clutching that baby to her tight. I will allow you to turn
too, but I am sorry, that child is mine. Without averting my stare, I reach for
the now petrified grandmother. Grabbing my claws into her shoulders, I pull her
around to stand before me, and proceed to rip out her throat. The young woman’s
cry turns into a demented wail that keeps rising in pitch and volume. Just as
it begins to make the transformation into a full blown scream, I throw the old
woman on the floor, turn and slash my claws across the top of the mother’s
back. She becomes airborne for a few feet across the room, and loses her grip
on the child, sprawling out face down on the floor. I pick up the screaming
infant by its head, just as the mother rolls onto her back. I leer at her for
several moments, challenging her to come and rescue her baby, and she stares
back, frozen and speechless.
I raise the child to eye level, still watching the
mother. She tries to say something but the words won’t come. I know she is
pleading for her child’s life, but no mercy will be shown in Wolfhaven tonight.
Tearing the infant in half in one bite, the mother screams a real scream, as
the little leg bones snap and splinter between my teeth. One more bite and it’s
gone, apart from the head, which I toss at the hysterical woman on the floor.
This was very satisfying, and I thought I had run out of prey.
I turn and leave the devastated mother, exiting the
bedroom and down the stairs. She has been marked and the moon is full. Come
next Full Moon, she will be one of us, as will her husband when he wakes up. My
return to the street is met with disappointment. My brothers and sisters sit
around the piles of corpses, feeding. It seems there are none left to decimate
after all. I pick up an amputated leg as I sit myself on the ground, and chew
away at it thoughtfully.
The rage fades and I feel a proud confidence move in to
take its place. Wolfhaven is ours. No-one escaped, the pack has grown, and the
word is being spread. Soon the world will be our very own Wolfhaven. Tonight,
my mother Pharo, Mother of the Pack, has been avenged.
GIVEAWAY
WOWZA!!!!
I don’t know about you, but I want to read more!!! And one of you will be able
to IF YOU WIN!!!! Toneye is offering FIVE books up for snagging, gnashing, and fanging to death!!!! The titles are: The Scarlett Curse, Joshua's Folly, Blood Moon Big Top, Dance with the Demon anthology
and Wolvz: Whispers of War!!!! THESE WILL BE ECOPIES AND THE TITLES WILL GO IN ORDER:
FIRST WINNER RECEIVES THE SCARLETT CURSE, SECOND … JOSHUA’S FOLLY AND SO ON!!!
BUT FIRST YOU GOTTA WIN!!!
So
click on back to the FB Event Page, find today’s post featuring Toneye Eyenot
and comment, “I WANT TO WIN!” in that post!!! Good luck to all!!!
Her
chance meeting with young Dera, an 11 year old mute from the outskirts of town,
throws both of their worlds into chaos, as Scarlett returns to the busy town of
Mills Wall, to complete a failed attempt on her most elusive target to date.
Could this child be the downfall of Scarlett? The demise of The Sacred Blade Of
Profanity? Dark and troubled times are all that is foreseeable for both
Scarlett and the mysterious little girl. Indeed for all of Mills Wall.
Joshua's Folly: Book II in The Sacred Blade of Profanity
series
Jahl-Rin…
the very name would cause folk to look over their shoulder in terror. Not
Joshua though. Joshua Melkerin was a peculiar character. Unassuming, ordinary
looking, generously aged; he was not the kind of person one would consider to
engage in the despicable acts such as those of Jahl-Rin and his ilk. His
colourful past, a meticulously kept secret from all decent and law abiding
folk, Joshua had at last reached the point of no repent. Alone in the world and
the last of his ancestry, his zest for life all but extinguished, Joshua cared
naught for the fortunes of others.
The
Sacred Blade Of Profanity had waited many years to introduce itself, through
Scarlett, to Joshua’s tainted blood. The time had come at long and final last.
The Kirlt’th sorcerers’ lineage had their motivations behind each targeted kill
throughout the extensive history of The Blade Of Power―motives that would one
day become apparent, as Joshua plodded uncertainly to his inevitable doom...
Blood Moon Big Top
When
Kendrick the drifter joins a circus and becomes Marbles the Clown, he discovers
the art of transformation; an escape from the woes of his everyday life. An
unfortunate encounter with a feral child in the woods, as the Full Moon
prepares to meet the approaching dawn, sets off a gradual transformation beyond
anything Marbles could imagine. His deterioration over the following two weeks
leads to his apparent death and the circus moves on. Waking up in the morgue a
few days later, the slow transformation of Marbles the Clown begins.
In
a desperate bid to catch up with the circus as it travels from town to town,
city to city, Marbles embarks on a two week journey of nightmare carnage and
unconquerable insanity, finally reaching his destination in time for the real
and terrifying transformation to take hold.
Dance With the Demon (Project 26 Book 4)
Demons
– we all have them. Like a parasitic shadow, attaching itself and penetrating
its foul claws deep into your soul, your own personal demon feeds on your
fears. Fear – the basest of all human emotions; the one from which all our
others gain impetus and purpose – even of love.
Throughout
history, the Demon has been projected outwards, given form, given a cornucopia
of names and even hierarchies. Truth be told, they are a deeply ingrained
expression of our own psyches. Manifesting in a myriad of ways: addictions –
physical, mental and spiritual; hatred and prejudice, ignorance and
subservience – the Demon lives within us all, and choreographs the dance of
life towards death.
As
you immerse yourself in the demonic tales within these pages, the question may
arise…
How
much of yourself have you given away, as you Dance with the Demon
Wolvz Whispers of War (Project 26)
The
war on humanity has begun...
Wolfhaven
- ground zero - none in this town will survive the wrath of the pack. The first
slaughter sparks the beginning of the end for humanity as the Wolfhaven pack
descends upon the unsuspecting townsfolk to exact revenge for the killing of
one of our own - Pharo, the mother of the pack, once feared and respected by
our kind throughout the region, is no more.
Claude's
plan is bold yet carefully thought out; to spread from Wolfhaven, town by town,
village by village, city by city; to rid the world of the human plague and put
an end to the desecration of this wondrous planet. It all begins here.
As
the ranks swell, the surrounding packs forming alliances and consolidating,
select humans spared annihilation to be turned and assimilated as the moon
casts her influence. Will our beloved Alpha's grand plan come to fruition? Or,
will pettiness, arrogance, and territorial pissing end this war before it
begins?
I
am Shona, first daughter of Pharo, and here my story begins...
AUTHOR BIO
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Intense!
ReplyDeleteSo great!!!
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