About Gargoyles and other creatures- a #tellastorytome Entry

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Mored was not awake, his eyes were open and staring out at the vista spread below him, but his mind was meandering in a sea of memories. When he was a young Gargoyle- a pup, the world was all green and blue and golden sunshine. A smile invariably spread on his leathery lips making his tusks stand out. The memory of a vast land full of dense and vibrant forests and pristine rivers always moved Mored to the edge of melancholy before it passed.

The next picture burst into his mind's eye. His first encounter with humans. They had come to the wooded cliff- their nest- at dawn, nearly a hundred, their approach masked by the strong drizzle. Of the fourteen gargoyles only six had managed to survive and flee, injured and relentlessly pursued for days. They fled into the high and bleak granite mountains. That was the winter which claimed Mored's progenitor. A shiver passed through him as he remembered eating the heart during the death ritual. Grom had been his only friend during those difficult days.

Grom- the magnificent Bloodwolf. He had joined the gargoyle camp as a barely alive orphan. For nearly a hundred cycles of the moon they had been friends, Grom even attended the sessions where the elders recounted the old stories and new discoveries. Grom had chosen to stay with the Gargoyle pack when they had settled near the Green river. The Green river- Mored had seen it full of dead carcasses and all for a paved road through the valley. The soldiers had been killed by the werewolves the first time they entered the valley. The second time the humans had brought canons. Gargoyles, werewolves, great bats and black apes had all banded to defend the valley after witnessing the initial carnage. Mored still cringed from the memory of his broken legs. Grom had carried and dragged him to safety past all the carcasses in the green river.

Grom and Mored had formed a hunting pack along with the surviving werewolves. For years they hunted humans along with other animals who wanted to cross the grey mountains. Their thirst for revenge as powerful as their survival instinct. Till the humans cut away scores of trees and built huge towers from where they could shoot the dreaded metal balls. Mored shook his large round head from side to side in an unconscious effort to shy away from recounting Grom's dismemberment. They had injured him by shooting the metal balls then they had cut him, torn his body into little pieces at leisure, taking pleasure from the anguished howls of the werewolves which pierced the night hour after hour. Then the humans had burned the mutilated body.

Mored had gone mad with grief and rage. He headed straight for the lights of the human city to kill as many as he could before the soldiers got to him. After killing one family Mored could not make himself kill anymore. He just climbed to the top of the highest tower and curled into a ball waiting to be captured and killed. He had slept and woken after a few hours or a few days- he was still not sure.

Mored still lived. Learning to keep away from humans. Barely surviving from day to day, shifting from nest to nest every few months. He saw the great trees being cut and rivers being dammed. He saw the mountains being clawed open by monstrous explosions. He saw hundreds of trees being felled and uncountable creatures killed to lay down metal tracks. His skin began to feel dirty and the mountains became grimy. Forests were disappearing every day. Mored was ready to die, he could feel his life loose meaning amid dying trees and foul coarse air. And he would have died surely as that forest was dead, had he not spotted Raja trying to fly away from the granite mountain.

Raja, a magnificent red dragon. She was as big as a hillock. Two of her four wings had been damaged. She had been as surprised to see him as he had been when he spotted her. Mored had nursed her and fed her and Raja had carried him to the Last Forest. A vast dense green forest fed by two great rivers and a multitude of lakes and swamps. Here he was among gargoyles, dragons, bloodwolves, great bats, basilisks and scores of other creatures, some Mored could not even name when he had arrived. Mored had felt so happy he had cried like a pup. Great groaning sobs relieving him of a colossal sadness

Mored finally awoke to full awareness. He was on the South Mountain, one of the boundaries of the Last Forest. Man had not yet approached this land but they were near. Near enough to warrant keeping a border watch. Nearly two hundred strong, the border watch consisted of volunteers like Mored who did not trust humans to stay away. But nothing untoward tonight, Mored thought, one more night of peace, he ruminated as he stabbed an unwary hare. It would make a nice meal and he still had more than an hour before he was relieved. Mored walked a few paces to his right and then to his left, peering down the slopes, straining with all his senses to notice any activity, specially human activity. Only when he was sure that nothing was moving did he turn his attention to his meal, thankful that man could not fly.