Friday, October 27, 2017

TONEYE EYENOT: Excerpt of Wolvz: Whispers of War

Copyright © 2017 by Toneye Eyenot

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.

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 CurseJoshua's FollyBlood Moon Big TopDance 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 JOSHUAS 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!!!

The Scarlett Curse: Book I in The Sacred Blade of Profanity series
Scarlett, bearer of The Sacred Blade Of Profanity for nigh on three hundred years, untouched by linear time, unhindered by the confines of space, nevertheless has grown weary. The ancient dagger, crafted in sorcery over eight thousand years ago, requires the blood of the profane to sustain its power. Scarlett has killed scores over the centuries and will continue for as long as she possesses The Blade.
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...

Toneye Eyenot writes tales of horror and dark fantasy which have appeared in numerous anthologies over the past two years. He is the author of WOLVZ: WHISPERS OF WAR, a novella as part of J. Ellington Ashton’s Project 26, a clown/werewolf horror novella titled BLOOD MOON BIG TOP, released with JEA Press, plus the ongoing SACRED BLADE OF PROFANITY series with two books, THE SCARLETT CURSE and JOSHUAS FOLLY, also published through J. Ellington Ashton Press and a third currently in the works. He is the editor of the anthologies: DANCE WITH THE DEMON, INSECTILE ILLUSION, PSYCHO PATH, BLACK MAGIC MASSACRE, FULL MOON SLAUGHTER werewolf anthology, and the upcoming FULL MOON SLAUGHTER 2: ALTERED BEASTS, also with JEA. Toneye lurks in the Blue Mountains in NSW Australia, with the myriad voices who tear the horrors from his mind and splatter them onto the page. 
You can most easily connect with Toneye through his Facebook page -
Or website –
Amazon –
Twitter –