Post by bh admin on Jul 13, 2009 20:52:54 GMT -5
For centuries there was only one pack for the creatures that humans called “werewolves.” Since the beginning, when the moon goddess gifted her children with the ability to shed their human skin and become beasts, they had been united to worship under the goddess and called themselves the “loups-garoux.” The pack, called corvus, lived in harmony with the humans. Little contact was made between the two, so the werewolves remained out of sight and content with their lives. If they were sighted, then that was just a sign that it was time to pack up and move.
Life functioned the same way for the wolves, no matter what location they found themselves living in. That is, until they moved to Cork, Ireland. It was a simple operation, moving that is, the werewolves were so used to it that they were hardly fazed when the alpha called for another move. Ireland was a place riddled with forests and there were areas where very little humans lived. It was the perfect spot for the wolves to live.
Corvus was prospering, with a new generation born, each child looking as healthy and fit as they should. The day of the full moon came around, which was also the first day that these newborns would transform into their beast forms. The pack was in no way prepared for what was to happen. The babes began changing; crying in pain as their bones shifted and rearranged, yet most achieved the state of a wolf.
All the babes, except for one.
This child did not complete the transformation, and seemed to be stuck in a wolfish humanoid form. It was an abomination. Snout, ears, fangs, claws and fur like a wolf, yet it still retained some human features and stood on two legs. The alpha decided to kill the demon, to ensure the safety of the pack and to put the child out of its misery. It would’ve never been accepted as a loup-garou, and the humans would certainly fear it. Everyone was better off with the child gone.
As a precaution, the mother was also killed, so this faulty gene would not be passed on. But, it seemed that this mother was not the only one with the ‘faulty gene.’ More and more of these abominations were being born, and each time it was slain. The alpha was deeply troubled by these children, and called together the oldest and wisest of the loups-garoux in a meeting. There, they decided to banish the families that gave birth to these demons, believing that they had turned their backs against the moon goddess and were being punished because of it.
Now two packs existed in Ireland: Corvus, the original pack that was rigid in its ways and set deep in tradition, and the newly named Argo, which consisted of the families who were banished. The families continued to give birth to these strange creatures, along with some scattered, “normal” loups-garoux. Corvus watched on in disgust for the creatures. They had fallen from the ways of the moon goddess. And so that was the name that these abominations had adopted, the fallen.
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