Rite Makes Might

Originally published to /r/teslore on 2017, Jan 14 at 15:37


Stronger. We must be stronger. I must be stronger. How.

The hunt. Good hunting, many game. Eat. Run. Grow.

Prey are fast. Faster than me. Faster than us. They run faster. We run farther. Some prey are stronger.

Speed begets speed. Strength demands strength.

“Vurnolak.”

“Koshar.”

Wind and stone. Swift and strong. Wind walks, runs, stops, never tires. Stone holds, remains, crushes, never breaks. Stone stops wind. Wind crumbles stone. Both. Hold the wind. Be the stone.

“Make faster. Make stronger.”

“Forsaken. Alone. How.”

Failure. Stop failing. Learn. Die. Which. LEARN.

Eagles fly. Father kicks from nest. Eagles fall, die. Eagles fly, live, hunt.

Yes.

Challenge. Kill or be killed. Win or be lost.

Eagles in nest. Protected. Sheltered. Weak. Eagles thrown to winds. Some fly. Some do not. Strong, victorious. Broken, beaten.

Survival betters victors. Death betters survivors. Shelter stifles. Care is cruelty. Love is pain.

“The hunters. Slow ones not catch. Weak ones not take.”

“The hunted. Fast ones not caught. Strong ones not taken.”

“Strength from suffering.”

“Weakness left behind.”

“Father abandons us. Judgment?”

“No matter. Must grow. Refuse death.”

Hunger. There, the game. Go. Slow, sure. Close the gap. Come closer, closer. Taste it on the air.

Run!

The chase. Glory in the chase. Prey runs. Run faster. Follow. Watch. Lead. Closer. Closer! CLOSER! YES.

Blood racing. Life flows, out of game. Into me. Thunders. Trickles from the throat, slow. I am here. I am alive. Take my fill.

Eyes on mine. Vurnolak, skin green of earth and red of blood. Eyes of black, black so deep, staring into Oblivion and Oblivion staring out. She sees me. She sees me.

Eyes on mine. Durnathar, skin brown from mud and red with blood. Eyes of white, white so empty, staring into Oblivion and Oblivion staring out. He sees nothing. He—

Eyes on mine. Ghozam, tusks bone white and bloody. Eyes of gold, gold so bright, burning with fire. He sees me. He sees me.

Hunger. Not of the stomach. More. There, the game. Go. Slow, sure. Close the gap. Come closer, closer. Taste him on the air.

Fight!

The fight. Glory in the fight. Blood like fire. Thundering. Driving. Prey is strong. Fight harder. Must win. Tusks tearing, into him, into me. The ground. Blood. Mine. His. It storms, a charging river. Death blood of game. Life blood of game. Life blood of me. Coursing and churning. Churning! CHURNING! YES.

My blood is strong. His blood is stronger. Our blood, together, strongest. Strength of the pack. Strength to the pack.


Nothing comes from nothing. All that is somewhere, was somewhere else. Tomorrow grows stronger by taking from today. Ghozam is stronger now. Tomorrow I will have my strength. Tomorrow I will have more. Ghozam’s strength claims the pack. Tomorrow, my cub will claim him. The strong rule the weak. Good. The weak die. Good. The weak become the strong. Good. The strongest live. Good. The strongest continue. Good. The old shape the new. The new take strength from the old. The new are stronger. The pack is stronger. Larger. Better. The strongest lead. The middle follow. The weakest fall away.

Good.