The Nightmare

"They Held Me Down and Called Me A Monster

 So I Howled At The Moon And Showed Them All

 Now They Don't Dare To Say My Name...."

It's hard to believe such a monstrous thing was born from such normal means. Like any other toskal. Or, well... almost. Upon his birth he was born with nothing but pitch black fur, dark as the night and not a mark on him to be had. This was particularly upsetting for his mother, who was very devout in her faith of the moon and it's light, fearing the young furball might be a curse. But the early stage of life was as normal as ever for the young thing. Sleeping and eating and growing like any other young toskal when born. 

But it wasn't long before something else was also noticed... Even as young as he was, the small pup was quite large. They had thought that he would grow into his body. After all, it wasn't uncommon for pups to put on spurts of growth here and there. But he only ever seemed to get bigger and bigger, never seeming to stop in his growth and always particularly large in size compared to those around him. That helped him, initially when he was finally sent out to interact and play with the other pups. His size making those his age wary. Though it soon turned out it put encouragement into the older pups to torment him, and those his own age soon joining in. Often remarking on his black pelt, and how weird he was. Pulling at his fur and his tail. 

Despite that, he listened well to teachings and lessons and stories. Learning of the moon and it's light... but he was confused, and finally asked about the god of darkness. This left much of the teachers shocked, puzzled, and downright offended at the audacity for anyone to think that there was any other god than the moon! Often berated and chided whenever he might ask if there was even the possibility. 

He lashed out once, when a pup his own age had been teasing him and struck out. He ended up injuring the little pup and even breaking bone, not realizing his own size and the damage he could do wit it. His mother putting him down and chiding him for his carelessness and that he could not be so rough! And she could care less if the other pups did the exact same thing. HE was too big to go roughhousing with them and he couldn't be so careless. His father was more forgiving and understanding, as he often tended to be. And so, he was left to simple grin and bare it. Only shocking those away whenever he was able to. 

Grin and bare it he did, but for only a little while longer... Longer then he ever should of, as far as he was concerned. Only a couple years later before instinct would start to pull them out of the village, he finally snapped all over again, the tortures of the others finally too much for him. Raking his claws against some and even throwing another toskal against a tree before an older one that was preparing to leave the village the very next day was finally turned on and attacked by Hexxus with the force of his strength and power, clawing and scraping and biting. Doing anything he could to fight back against the younger in his frustration. Hearing the sickening squelch and rip of flesh being torn and shredded and the heavy snap and crack of bone as they broke like dry twigs under the force of his strength. 

By the time he calmed down, breathing heavy and bloodied rage-filled eyes draining, the toskal below him was barely recognizable. Long claws dripping with blood as he caught his breath, chest heaving and burning like he'd run for a very long time. He stared at the toskal a long while, clawed hand moving reflexively with the muscle memory of what he'd done. Finally turning his head he saw the other's watching him, wary and terrified. Never had they seen such brutality against their own. He was sure he should feel bad... be disgusted, or horrified by what he'd done. 

But he didn't. 

In fact. He enjoyed the feeling. The power, the strength he felt. No more restraints. No more having to hold back. No more having to grin and bare it. Oh no. Never again would he hold back. Never again would he restrain himself so that others might poke fun at him... they would all pay with their lives. That night... 

He grinned and gave it all back. 

He killed three others by the end, and injured even more. By then his pelt all but stuck to him from the work it took, baring his teeth at the others who tried to attack and take him down, including his mother.  She called him an abomination. A Monster. A curse. But they weren't new words to him. Not from her mouth. As the tribe closed in on him they suddenly stopped, gasping in shock and fear as they looked to the sky. His own head turning to look at the moon in the sky that had now turned a deep blood red. The look of the bloodsoaked moon bringing a wicked smile to his face and looking to his mother. "It looks like MY god is favoured today." he informed all of them proudly, striking out a final time, opening his mother's throat before fleeing into the darkness. 

Now, stories have spread about the Nightmare that lives in the swamp, who's god turned the moon red that day as a boon of his coming. Said to be unbeatable, many a toskal has been lost to this vicious and dark creature and no one is safe. Even having been spotted in the plains and the mountains. But don't worry... he isn't ALL mean. Sometimes he'll spare you, if he's feeling generous or you have a particularly dark coat. Saying something in favour of the god of darkness would also help your goal of survival. But don't think you'll survive just for any of these reasons. He's as likely to kill you without a word than to let you free. 

"Hero's Always Get Remembered. 

But You Know Legends Never Die!"