Information


Voon has a minion!

Enola the Kaosan




Voon
Legacy Name: Voon


The Dusk Tigrean
Owner: Pureflower

Age: 12 years, 1 month, 4 weeks

Born: January 29th, 2012

Adopted: 12 years, 1 month, 4 weeks ago

Adopted: January 29th, 2012

This pet has been nominated for the Pet Spotlight!

Statistics


  • Level: 71
     
  • Strength: 164
     
  • Defense: 10
     
  • Speed: 11
     
  • Health: 11
     
  • HP: 11/11
     
  • Intelligence: 155
     
  • Books Read: 138
  • Food Eaten: 1
  • Job: Topiary Tender


The Tyrant's Rebellious Son

He was learning to throw a blade with precision when most children were learning nursery rhymes. Skinned knees were a fact of life not worth crying over. Any monster foolish enough to lurk under Voon's bed would do well to be afraid of him.

At fifteen years old, he is the youngest person in the land to carry a warrior's name. There are two things in life he's figured out for certain, despite his tender age. His father Voorik has a power of persuasion that can move nations and Voorik is a force of pure evil.

*****

Voon's hand is in motion almost before he finishes judging the distance to the target. His dagger sticks in the heart of the practice dummy, releasing a satisfying spurt of fake blood.

"The ruthless warrior slays another hapless victim."

He does not turn at the sound of his lady mother's voice. Three more blades take to the air, shattering three clay pigeons released by a servant in the far corner.

"One, two, three, see how the ground is littered with innocent bones."

She will not go away until Voon acknowledges her. He will not give her the satisfaction of another useless spat.

The bronze hoops are a real source of frustration. The trick is to aim precisely for the little star in the center. The least miscalculation will set the hoop to spinning, unleashing an infuriating whistling sound.

Two perfect scores. The third is close but wrong, setting him to grit his teeth as she laughs and claps her hands.

"He tries so hard to be like his father but he never quite hits the mark."

Voon turns at last. "I am not like my father!"

"No? Then why are you still here? Voorik ordered you to await his return and here you remain. A servant follows orders. A warrior defies them."

"Where would I go, Mother? This curse will never leave me. There is no place I can go where these do not betray me as Voorik's son." He taps the corner of his eye for emphasis. The orange orbs that heighten Voorik's allure trap his son behind armored walls. He envies every muddy-eyed stable boy and blue-eyed urchin begging in the streets. "Are you so eager for my death?"

Her silence is all the answer he needs.

*****

His father came for him on his thirteenth birthday and he'd been so proud to travel the world at Voorik's side. How many boys had a legend for a father, a man whose name was spoken in whispers all over the world?

Voon did not notice his mother watching from the tower, crying as her boy passed beyond her view. No matter what happened, he would no longer be a child.

They stayed in shadowed lodgings with occupants who never revealed their faces but Voon was never afraid. Even with his face hidden, Voorik had a presence that warned savage men away.

They crossed the barren stretches of uncharted lands, stopping at last in a jungle with strange plant and animal life Voon had read about in his studies but never hoped to see.

He succeeded in every test Voorik put him to, making a cloak from the pelt of a spotted jungle cat to wear at his warrior ceremony. He took a name similar to his father's, a tribute to Voorik that he would come to regret.

Voorik woke him in the middle of the night, handing him a torch with a signal for silence. Voon dressed carefully, taking his spear in hand.

The tawny lion sniffed the air, placing one unsteady paw before the next. Though the horses were only a few feet away, they did not cry out or pull at their tethers. Something was very wrong.

The beast raised its head as Voon circled warily, snarling and raising claws that glinted in the moonlight. The sound that rose from it when Voon struck was not animal.

The lion skin fell away, revealing one of Voorik's servants. Voon had seen Mort many yimes, bringing in wood for Voorik's fires. He tried to lunge at Voon, always eager to please his master, and fell flat on his face.

Voon backed away in disgust. Mort was clearly drugged.

"Kill him."

Mort's attention was drawn by a fat yellow leaf that had fallen on his hand. He began to trace the patterns of the veins running along the surface, humming a wordless tune under his breath. Voon let his spear fall.

I won't kill an unarmed man, Father. It would be like killing an infant."

"Don't let a cradle be armor for your enemies, my son." Voorik called flame to his staff, ending the man's life with a well-aimed blow. "You have a warrior's skills but your heart is too soft. It is clear you need more training. Hesitation is a luxury for the weak."

*****

Voon's training masters began to turn on him the week of his return. Men who had taught him to ride and to bind his wounds would attack him at all hours, forcing him to fight until they fell.

He consoles himself with the fact that he has never killed in cold blood.

He stands impassive as a messenger gallops into the training yard. "Hail, son of Voorik. Your father requests your presence at the Great Hall. He wants you to know that your hour of glory has come. The prisoner has escaped!"

His mother waves the man to the kitchen for a cool mug of ale, a liberty she would not dare take if Voorik were present.

He snatches Voorik's standard from the wall, ripping the flag in half and leaving the pieces to flutter to the flagstones. Her smile is the first offered on his behalf since he took his first unaided steps.

The road out of town is quiet, a product of the excitement of execution day. Voon does not set out in any particular direction, wandering through hilly green pastures and ancient forests, using his skills to bring in meat as he needs it.

He stumbles upon the fugitive couple quite by accident, freezing in place as the cave he'd set his sights on proves occupied after all. Voon watches the sun break the horizon, turning away as Tauren reaches out to put his arm around his lover.

Voon deliberately chooses a trail that will lead him away from the mountains, the most likely path of escape. He silently wishes luck to the only other man in the world who has witnessed Voorik's true nature.

credits:

profile template by piers.
Story by Pureflower
Background from pixabay

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