Armies of Fluff: repository of my unofficial background-related stories.

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    • Armies of Fluff: repository of my unofficial background-related stories.

      Intro and Disclaimer

      Hi there fellow narrators!

      I've recently opened my user blog about narration and personal fluff. I've now decided to split it in two: in the userblog subforum I'll comment and explain ideas about personal, unofficial fluff, while here I'll happily share my own fluff in the making.

      You can read the User blog here:

      Armies of Fluff: because narration is important


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      There’s a second, during sunset, in which darkness and light, day and night, mix themselves toghether, becoming the very same thing. In that second, the beast and the man conjoined. It is in that second that they showed their reality, as they call it, the Mark of the Beast, something that goes far beyond the understanding of a man, and as far as I know, even beyond that of a beast. In that second, when light is not enough to see clearly, and darkness is not enough to allow the torches to shine, they assaulted our camp. Some of them were fast and perfectly coordinated like a pack of wolves. Some were stronger than bears. The biggest of them had the eight of three men, and they were litereally tearing apart some of our chariots, and ripping to pieces our – totally useless – artillery.


      No man can be so fast or strong. No beast can be so tactically prepared. For what we know today, after being their prisoners, is that they are not beasts, nor men. The Beast Herds abhor them, mankind fears them. Unaccepted, doomed, exiled, such is the tragedy they made their own distinctive trait, the foundation on which they built the fortress of their strongest will: surviving as outcasts was not enough, they wanted to live.


      The Beast within: those of them appearing as men, with the instincts and invisible features of an animal, such as strenght, speed, agility.

      The Beast without: those of them appearing as animals, while keeping internally their human nature, able to talk, to have human feelings.

      They call themselves Diuzis Drauhts, the Host of Beasts, in the old language of the Asklanders, for from the lands of the North they came, and they travelled across Vetia and Taphria and Augea to meet those akin to them, to give the outcasts and the exiled a new chance, a new life, under the sign of a new god, under the lead of a prophet, a soothsayer, the one they call Astaths, Truth.



      (The nature of the werebeasts, from the Memories of Boris Van Arandij, Volskaian explorer)

      Display Spoiler

      A jackal, O Karna, residing in the forest in the midst of hares regardeth himself a lion till he actually sees a lion.




      Armies of Fluff: because narration is important - a blog about fluffing your army.
      Armies of Fluff: repository of my unofficial short stories and excerpts

      :WDG_bw: :VC: :O&G: :EoS: :BH: :DE: :KoE:
    • It was before the southern reign of Matthias, and even before that of Frederick, that in the land of the north, in the region known among the Sonnstahlers as the Abyss of the Gods, the pregnant daughters of Åskland disappeared; the herds from the deepest forests took them; raiding the innocent villages whenever the moon was hiding, they took them for nine days, and the guts of the woods vomited them after nine nights. When they returned to their villages, they were rejected by their kin, for they said they were cursed by the dead moon, and called them Daughters of the haunted forest. Outcast, damned by their families, brothers, fathers and even killed by their husbands, they left their homes once and for ever. They headed north, and after nine nights, they were met by the voice of salvation, the voice of Tjelvar the Blind, keeper of the ancient runestones of the western fjord. The Seidhkennar lead them on the beaches of Grumantbyen, a forsaken bunch of ruined houses. There, he took care of them, as they restored the village anew and called it Heart of the forest, for they now felt they were gifted, not damned. Weeks passed, and one after the other, the Daughters of the forest gave birth to their children. The nearby villages feared and abhored them, and the newly born raised isolated from the Åsklanders, though they learned they way of the North and the way of the Sea, both from their mothers and from Tjelvar.

      It was after nine years that their mothers knew of the Mark. For their children were stronger than others, and many of them had red eyes and even fur on their shoulders. Suddenly, the children used to go out during dark moon nights, led by Tjelvar into the heart of the woods, they shouted and hunted for deers.

      Tjelvar then took the youngest of them during the days, who was called Astaths, Truth in the southern language, and teached him the way of the Seidhkennars. At night, he teached him the way of the Soothsayer. Astaths was the first to know of the Mark. And during the following years, he learned the way of the beast within and the way of the beast without.

      The oldest of them was called Godakund, of noble birth in the southern language, for he was the son of a Jarl. When he was nine, Godakund already was two times the size of the other children. His eyes were of a dark red, and fur was already covering his hands and feet. Tjelvar used to take him into the forest at sunset, and teached him to hunt and to lead the others, as a pack of giant wolves.

      Among the others there was a silent child. He never spoke for the first five years, and only howled while violently playing with his brothers. He was called Driugan, to wage war in the southern language, for he was able with his howls to call all of the other children and make them frenzied. When he was nine, Tjelvar used to take him into the darkest woods at sunrise, and he teached him the art of hate. Driugan soon became the fastest of his kindred, and besides Tjelvar, only Astaths and Godakund were able to placate his easy to rise fury.


      (Hatissaga, or the Saga of Wrath, as told by Wilja, Skjald of Diuzis Drauhts, and written down by Boris Van Arandij)

      Display Spoiler

      A jackal, O Karna, residing in the forest in the midst of hares regardeth himself a lion till he actually sees a lion.




      Armies of Fluff: because narration is important - a blog about fluffing your army.
      Armies of Fluff: repository of my unofficial short stories and excerpts

      :WDG_bw: :VC: :O&G: :EoS: :BH: :DE: :KoE:
    • We had no home. I used to sing the tales of the Host of Beasts, and the lauds of the Mistress of Beasts, while we wandered for nine years between the Sea of Storms and the Great Ocean, and nine years between the Middle Sea and the Sea of Gods. We were like exiles, from one place to the other, for we were abominations for men, and horrendous hybrids for the beasts. For the first nine years, survival was our only motivation. For the following nine years, finding an home was our only obsession. We were a few, we became an army. Our drakkars were a scattered bunch of ships, but became a fleet. From Taphria and Augea, from Vetia and even from the seas, our brothers arose and joined us, and Astaths made them aware of the Mark and the faith in the Mistress, and all of them became our blood brothers, one family, one clan, one army, one nation of beasts. For the Beast Within and the Beast Without are everywhere, and the Diuzis greet everyone marked by the Mistress. And all of them are in my tales, for I’m Wilja, the Skald of the Diuzis Drauhts, and I keep the memory of all of us, for in the light of the Mistress of Beasts, our souls are eternal, our enemies are doomed, our friends will be enlightned.

      Display Spoiler

      A jackal, O Karna, residing in the forest in the midst of hares regardeth himself a lion till he actually sees a lion.




      Armies of Fluff: because narration is important - a blog about fluffing your army.
      Armies of Fluff: repository of my unofficial short stories and excerpts

      :WDG_bw: :VC: :O&G: :EoS: :BH: :DE: :KoE: