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Spring, 1392
As the sun began to rise past the mountains, Prince Sfelewi stood silently by the cliff face, gazing longing across the canyons towards Mwelian Forest, his home and where he was eventually to have ruled. That already seemed like a lifetime ago.
It had been a hellish four months. Bridled, saddled, shoed, branded and gelded by the Miscabbards the young unicorn heir had quickly been reduced to a mount for the cultist leader of the nerge that had enmeshed them. Prince Sfelewi’s rider had taken a liking to being atop an exotic beast, and had decked him like an ornament with Antium wool and Capenan leather. The unicorn had narrowly escaped the roasting spit and flames, and but now faced a miserable life of a beast of burden.
Prince Sfelewi had specifically gotten up before dawn so he could have this moment to himself, to have a bit of peace before his captors awoke and dragged him back into the cruel realities of his current life. To have the freedom to reflect and to mourn.
Telsaeli, his guardian, friend, and mate, was gone, having given his life to protect the prince’s. The cultist leader, had been furious with his subordinates for what had happened, and after a round of beatings had a red horse brought up and Telsaeli’s severed horn and goatee tied upon it in some horrific mockery of a unicorn. Prince Sfelewi gave another quick prayer to his fallen companion, and hoped that his departed comrade would be able to properly find his way back to the folds of the Good Mother Earth. The unicorn stared at the false unicorn obliviously browsing nearby and gritted his teeth. He would get back Telsaeli’s horn, and give his guardian a proper sending off. The prince disliked seeing the horse playing at one of his people, even if he knew that it was not the fault of the insentient creature.
It was his captors, Prince Sfelewi needed to remind himself. The cultist hunting leader that rode on his back, and his second, who rode the fake unicorn. Together the cultist hunting repeated their nerges against the creatures of the Wilds, once in the Moorlands and once in the Tulusculum Foothills: a party of Miscabbards, ranging from fifty to even hundreds would fan out, surround a pre-determined area and then close in and attack with bows and javelins, driving everything before them until they formed a picket. Then came sword, spear, lasso and shackles as the cultists collapsed the pocket, killing many inside and capturing everyone else. Less hunters than locusts of men, the Miscabbards would ruthlessly denude a region of all sentient beings.
With the cultist leader atop his back, Prince Sfelewi bore witness to all these atrocities, though generally out and above the direct violence. Only once was he forced to participate, when a family of satyrs managed to break free from the cordon at Redding Bend. Cursing, the cultist leader had spurred the unicorn to pursue. Prince Sfelewi raced over, though he stubbornly refused to attack the four fleeing figures despite the crop hitting his flank increasingly violently. In the end, the fleeing caprines were cut down one by one by arrows and spears from other pursuers in a cacophony of screams and groans, sounds which still haunted the young unicorn. Still the prince thought that one of the children had managed to escape the slaughter. Prince Sfelewi frequently thought about that fleeing little satyr, and hoped that they could remain free of all the horrors that unicorn continued to face every day.
When his Miscabbard hunting party had finally gotten their fill of the nerges- after running low of supplies or food, or having suffered extensive casualties or simply filled up all the available space they had for prisoners- they would return to Kavi. Prince Sfelewi had visited the cultist underground city twice, each time leading a sad line of scores of bound prisoners -Sabines, duregaren, Trasgu, pixies, goblins, cynos, ixions, harpies, satyrs, manitcores, gryphons- all to be sacrificed to the Miscabbard’s ravenous god. The hunting party would rest at the cultist city for a few days, replenish their numbers with new recruits, stock up on supplies, and go back out into the wilderness.
The road to and from Kavi was rough and rocky, well hidden among the sheer cliffs and scarred canyons of the Eastern Ranges. The cultist leader atop Prince Sfelewi’s back was fair and treated him like a prize, but any sort of stumble or pause was quickly met by a switch or whip to his flank. By the second trip, the unicorn had memorized the route through the forested canyons and rocky cliffs to the sacred cultist city.
In a way, Prince Sfelewi was lucky; he was probably one of the few intelligent creatures who had been brought to Kavi and also allowed to leave it. He shuddered thinking about it, barely daring to eat or sleep in the stables of the dark and damp underground city, filled with chants and screams. The unicorn dared not think about the future, whether he would eventually join the innumerable victims that he had shamefully led to their deaths. He could only survive and mourn and have the tiniest of hope that things would somehow get better.
What else could he do in this life?
Suddenly came the sounds of opening of flaps, flint knapping, and human voices-the camp was starting to stir all around Prince Sfelewi. The cultists were waking up and cooking breakfast, preparing for the day. Soon the prisoners would be awakened and fed, the camp would be broken up, and everyone would move to the next goal of the day.
The unicorn sighed inwardly. It was about time for his next hell to begin.
“Ready the beasts! We move out in an hour!”
A figure appeared besides Prince Sfelewi, and a thick, scarred hand grabbed his reigns, leading him back toward the stables. “Come here you Snowball. Time to get fed.”
With one final look at his former home, the fallen prince let himself be led away to the trough.
***
And then suddenly Prince Sfelewi was saved.
It was after the third nerge and the captive unicorn was on the way back to Kavi with the battered survivors of the cultist hunting party- having actually captured a silver dragon, though at high cost to themselves- when Asaewath and Rargesteyae suddenly attacked and shattered the Miscabbard hunters, killing the unicorn’s rider.
Now through a pixie and satyr translator they were asking him about the Miscabbard City.
Prince Sfelewi told them all he knew. There was nothing to hide from his rescuers.
The two dragons also seemed young, eager-like he had been. They eagerly consumed all the information about Kavi that the unicorn prince could give.
They wanted to go to the City of the Damned, the Good Mother Earth knew why.
The unicorn did not understand the ways of dragons, but they seemed opposed to the Miscabbards and he wished them well.
Prince Sfelewi hoped that they would navigate the cultists better than he did.
Cat Stevens Morning has Broken
From
VenLightChaser !
Original: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/46236213/
As the sun began to rise past the mountains, Prince Sfelewi stood silently by the cliff face, gazing longing across the canyons towards Mwelian Forest, his home and where he was eventually to have ruled. That already seemed like a lifetime ago.
It had been a hellish four months. Bridled, saddled, shoed, branded and gelded by the Miscabbards the young unicorn heir had quickly been reduced to a mount for the cultist leader of the nerge that had enmeshed them. Prince Sfelewi’s rider had taken a liking to being atop an exotic beast, and had decked him like an ornament with Antium wool and Capenan leather. The unicorn had narrowly escaped the roasting spit and flames, and but now faced a miserable life of a beast of burden.
Prince Sfelewi had specifically gotten up before dawn so he could have this moment to himself, to have a bit of peace before his captors awoke and dragged him back into the cruel realities of his current life. To have the freedom to reflect and to mourn.
Telsaeli, his guardian, friend, and mate, was gone, having given his life to protect the prince’s. The cultist leader, had been furious with his subordinates for what had happened, and after a round of beatings had a red horse brought up and Telsaeli’s severed horn and goatee tied upon it in some horrific mockery of a unicorn. Prince Sfelewi gave another quick prayer to his fallen companion, and hoped that his departed comrade would be able to properly find his way back to the folds of the Good Mother Earth. The unicorn stared at the false unicorn obliviously browsing nearby and gritted his teeth. He would get back Telsaeli’s horn, and give his guardian a proper sending off. The prince disliked seeing the horse playing at one of his people, even if he knew that it was not the fault of the insentient creature.
It was his captors, Prince Sfelewi needed to remind himself. The cultist hunting leader that rode on his back, and his second, who rode the fake unicorn. Together the cultist hunting repeated their nerges against the creatures of the Wilds, once in the Moorlands and once in the Tulusculum Foothills: a party of Miscabbards, ranging from fifty to even hundreds would fan out, surround a pre-determined area and then close in and attack with bows and javelins, driving everything before them until they formed a picket. Then came sword, spear, lasso and shackles as the cultists collapsed the pocket, killing many inside and capturing everyone else. Less hunters than locusts of men, the Miscabbards would ruthlessly denude a region of all sentient beings.
With the cultist leader atop his back, Prince Sfelewi bore witness to all these atrocities, though generally out and above the direct violence. Only once was he forced to participate, when a family of satyrs managed to break free from the cordon at Redding Bend. Cursing, the cultist leader had spurred the unicorn to pursue. Prince Sfelewi raced over, though he stubbornly refused to attack the four fleeing figures despite the crop hitting his flank increasingly violently. In the end, the fleeing caprines were cut down one by one by arrows and spears from other pursuers in a cacophony of screams and groans, sounds which still haunted the young unicorn. Still the prince thought that one of the children had managed to escape the slaughter. Prince Sfelewi frequently thought about that fleeing little satyr, and hoped that they could remain free of all the horrors that unicorn continued to face every day.
When his Miscabbard hunting party had finally gotten their fill of the nerges- after running low of supplies or food, or having suffered extensive casualties or simply filled up all the available space they had for prisoners- they would return to Kavi. Prince Sfelewi had visited the cultist underground city twice, each time leading a sad line of scores of bound prisoners -Sabines, duregaren, Trasgu, pixies, goblins, cynos, ixions, harpies, satyrs, manitcores, gryphons- all to be sacrificed to the Miscabbard’s ravenous god. The hunting party would rest at the cultist city for a few days, replenish their numbers with new recruits, stock up on supplies, and go back out into the wilderness.
The road to and from Kavi was rough and rocky, well hidden among the sheer cliffs and scarred canyons of the Eastern Ranges. The cultist leader atop Prince Sfelewi’s back was fair and treated him like a prize, but any sort of stumble or pause was quickly met by a switch or whip to his flank. By the second trip, the unicorn had memorized the route through the forested canyons and rocky cliffs to the sacred cultist city.
In a way, Prince Sfelewi was lucky; he was probably one of the few intelligent creatures who had been brought to Kavi and also allowed to leave it. He shuddered thinking about it, barely daring to eat or sleep in the stables of the dark and damp underground city, filled with chants and screams. The unicorn dared not think about the future, whether he would eventually join the innumerable victims that he had shamefully led to their deaths. He could only survive and mourn and have the tiniest of hope that things would somehow get better.
What else could he do in this life?
Suddenly came the sounds of opening of flaps, flint knapping, and human voices-the camp was starting to stir all around Prince Sfelewi. The cultists were waking up and cooking breakfast, preparing for the day. Soon the prisoners would be awakened and fed, the camp would be broken up, and everyone would move to the next goal of the day.
The unicorn sighed inwardly. It was about time for his next hell to begin.
“Ready the beasts! We move out in an hour!”
A figure appeared besides Prince Sfelewi, and a thick, scarred hand grabbed his reigns, leading him back toward the stables. “Come here you Snowball. Time to get fed.”
With one final look at his former home, the fallen prince let himself be led away to the trough.
***
And then suddenly Prince Sfelewi was saved.
It was after the third nerge and the captive unicorn was on the way back to Kavi with the battered survivors of the cultist hunting party- having actually captured a silver dragon, though at high cost to themselves- when Asaewath and Rargesteyae suddenly attacked and shattered the Miscabbard hunters, killing the unicorn’s rider.
Now through a pixie and satyr translator they were asking him about the Miscabbard City.
Prince Sfelewi told them all he knew. There was nothing to hide from his rescuers.
The two dragons also seemed young, eager-like he had been. They eagerly consumed all the information about Kavi that the unicorn prince could give.
They wanted to go to the City of the Damned, the Good Mother Earth knew why.
The unicorn did not understand the ways of dragons, but they seemed opposed to the Miscabbards and he wished them well.
Prince Sfelewi hoped that they would navigate the cultists better than he did.
Cat Stevens Morning has Broken
From
VenLightChaser !Original: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/46236213/
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Unicorn
Size 1280 x 929px
File Size 354.1 kB
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