OTAKTAY - DEMISEXUAL / UNKNOWN - SINGLE
PROBABLY NOT OPEN FOR ANY BREEDINGS
PROBABLY NOT OPEN FOR ANY BREEDINGS
otaktay, the wechuge
WIP Otaktay
- once a young member of a Native American tribe
- his tribe got slaughtered, he swore revenge
- a spirit granted him powers
- but also a curse
- is now a Wechuge
- always searching for blood and flesh
- mostly angry and growling
- very aggressive
- will attack anything and anyone on sight
- once a young member of a Native American tribe
- his tribe got slaughtered, he swore revenge
- a spirit granted him powers
- but also a curse
- is now a Wechuge
- always searching for blood and flesh
- mostly angry and growling
- very aggressive
- will attack anything and anyone on sight
A story of revenge
Once upon a time, many, many years before foreign settlers came and gave it the name “America”, this land of a million names inhabited thousands of native tribes; most of them living in quiet peace, some of them in everlasting war.
In one of these tribal villages lived a young man, whose name was Otaktay. Otaktay was not particularly skilled in anything – he was a fine rider, but he fell off more often than he liked to admit; he was good enough for caring for the crops and flowers and he at least was able to feed the animals, his family owned, but that’s about it.
His given name had left the whole village in high hope – Otaktay. He, who kills many. The warriors had hoped, that he would become one of them, a skilled user of the blade or the arrow, killing many enemies and keeping the village safe. The hunters had hoped, that he would become one of them, with sharp eyes and ears, providing animals for food and crafting. But it turned out, that Otaktay was neither.
As his mother was a hunter and his father a warrior, he was trained in archery from a young age, but it was soon obvious, that the boy was anything but skilled. He wasn’t able to hold the bow straight, every arrow he shot landed miles away from the target and he couldn’t handle a spear or a simple dagger either. When he hurt himself with a knife once, while trying to skin a rabbit, he fainted, as soon as he saw a single trop of blood. Otaktay was a hopeless case.
He didn’t have the personality traits for a hunter nor a warrior either. Instead of being sly and cunning, perhaps even slightly aggressive, focused and daring, Otaktay was a coward. He did not only fear the sight of blood, but he was afraid of nearly everything. It took him until his late teens, until he finally agreed trying to ride a horse, because he had been so afraid of the big beasts. He was afraid of the hounds, too, not to mention the buffaloes. He also retreated as soon as someone raised their voice and even refused to participate in playful fights with boys his age. His own shadow scared him.
And although everyone mocked him for his cowardice, in the end, it still somehow saved his life. That fateful day started just as any other – the sky was clear blue, and the sun was shining down. The tribespeople were calm, hardly any of them was working after noon, as it was way too hot for any activities. Some children were playing in the river, most adults sought the shadows of their tepees and for them, life felt good. None of them were suspecting anything, even though their shaman had warned them of a red summer drawing near.
Otaktay was enjoying the silence, he certainly favoured those calm days over the very busy ones. When the enemy tribe attacked, he didn’t even notice, at first, as they did not come running and screaming, but they came silently. Thus, it was not a sudden noise, that Otaktay was alarmed by, no. It was rather the fact, that the silence had begun to feel uncomfortable. It was his sole luck, that he happened to sit close to the forest and as soon as he laid eyes on one of the enemy warriors decapitating his father, he turned around and ran.
He ran as fast as he could and did the only thing, that he had ever been good at doing: cowering and hiding. He hid for hours and hours, until his limps felt numb, his mouth was dry of thirst and his stomach growled for food – but he still did not dare to move. Afraid of dying, he cowered behind a great rock, holding his breath whenever he thought to hear a noise. He sat there for days, scared to death, that they might find him. But they never did.
Only after a few days, Otaktay gave up on hiding. He was too thirsty, too hungry and too tired to hide anymore, and even his panicking self, did tell him over and over again, that the enemies were gone. He left his hiding place and slowly went back to his tribe’s village, afraid of what might await him there. If asked, Otaktay would not have been able to tell, what he expected to find, but it certainly was not this: There was no sign of life left, everywhere he looked, he saw dead bodies and raided tepees. It was as if he had stepped right into a dystopian horror scenario; he went on searching the grounds for hours, but he could not find a single remaining living being, except for some of the livestock, that the enemy tribe had left behind.
Otaktay was shaken and sad. He sank on his knees, gazed at the sky and let out a loud and desperate cry, a cry that was even heard by the spirits and woke some of them from their eternal slumber. Something else was woken, too: For the first time in his life, Otaktay felt his heard being taken over by an emotion, as strong as a mountain and as dangerous as a volcano. He felt anger. Anger and rage, the call for revenge. A part of him blamed himself, perhaps because he happened to be the only one still alive – and that just, because he had been a coward.
And now, Otaktay decided, that he did not want to be a coward anymore. He wanted to avenge his tribe, his family, and have the enemies pay for the sins they committed. He was not stupid, nonetheless, and he knew, that he would not be able to do this on his own. Therefore, he searched for the tent of the Shaman, who was not spared either, sat down next to his corpse, took a deep breath and started meditating. He actually had not a clue, if it would even work, but it was the only thing that he thought he could do.
He sat there and meditated. For hours and hours, even though he was tired and hungry and thirsty. But the call for revenge was louder.
The realm of the spirits is a place, that can hardly be described with words. It is so vastly different to the planet of eqorah, that we all know, but yet so similar. The place appears to be only black and white and yet, at the same time, full of amazing colours. Completely silent, not a single sound to be heard, but full of wonderful music. Most of the realm was empty, as most spirits had already decided to leave, because their people did not believe in them anymore. Other spirits were still there, but they ignored Otaktay and his pleads for help.
Only one of them listened. And answered. Otaktay heard a deep and soothing voice calling out for him, telling him, that everything would be fine and that he would help him avenge his family. He told him, that he just had to wait, and the spirit would soon accompany him in the realm of the mortals. “Don’t be afraid, when you see me.” The voice echoed through Otaktay’s head. “Go back to the forest and wait for me. I shall come to you after sunset.”
And with his heart full of trust for the spirit and anger for his enemies, Otaktay obeyed. He rose and left his village behind once again, but this time not to hide, but to wait. Dusk came soon and with the dawn, Otaktay’s fear came, too. While the rage so far had had him forget his fear, now it was back, as he was staring at the blackness of the deep forest. When he had been in there, hiding, he had just closed his eyes, but this time, he had to keep them open. He had to wait for spirit, that generously offered to help him.
As the spirit promised, he came just after sunset, and he was nothing Otaktay could have expected. Growing up, the young Viscet had learned, that spirits were able to take the form of an animal, when they came down to earth. He learned about father wind, who soared through the skies in the shape of an eagle and his son the ocean, who showed himself as a great water snake.
But the sight that appeared in front of him, stepping out of the shadows of the trees, was anything but an animal. It did have hooves, similar to a deer’s, and it had huge antlers too, but nothing else was even close to be comparable to the beauty of nature, no, what Otaktay saw, resembled a nightmare.
The create appeared to be made of bones and vines and the little spots of fur it had, reeked of decease. The hooves were strong and the noise they made, made Otaktay sick. The monster’s thorax was open and empty, except for the heart, which glowed dimly in the darkness, softly beating and emitting a cold, that made Otaktay shiver. The skull bared sharp teeth and empty eye sockets, the front legs were arms with bony claws, reaching out for the young Viscet. The creature snickered and growled, it appeared to be highly amused by Otaktay’s fear, who stumbled backwards over a root and fell into the grass. Once again, he was scared to death and sure, that he would have to die, but the monster did not attack, it only spoke in a voice, that Otaktay was familiar with.
“I promised I would come by sunset. I promised I would help you avenge your tribe.”
As horrendous the sight of the creature was, as soothing its voice appeared to be. To Otaktay, it was inexplicable, but as soon, as he heard the creature speak, his fear was gone, trading places with anger and rage once again. Nothing in the world meant more to him right now, than the thought of revenge and his creature was able to help him. Only the thought of that, and nothing more, allowed Otaktay to raise and walk towards the spirit, who now seemed to be amused by Otaktay’s change of mood.
“Fine, fine.” It growled, its claws reaching out for the Viscet. “Take my power as a gift and an aid. Let me accompany on your search for revenge.”
He hesitated for just a moment and then took the repulsive looking paw, or hand, or whatever you might call living bones, twined together by twisty roots. As soon as the two beings touched, the air changed, and an immense bright bolt of light was to be seen. Otaktay had closed his eyes, to shield himself from the brightness, and when he opened them again, the spirit was gone. However, it was not completely gone, as the Viscet could feel, that it was still there: Inside of him. They were one now.
And together, as one, the two left the forest and went on their way to find the enemy tribe, that was responsible for the eradication of Otaktay’s whole village. And just as they felt no danger drawing closer a few days ago, just before they were raided, the other tribe was in great mood, celebrating their victory over the other. Otaktay could not help but smile over the sight and the sounds of the celebrations.
What a shame, he thought. What a shame, the celebrations would not last long. Not for them, at least. What a shame, indeed.
While travelling there, Otaktay had not spared a single thought to how he planned on ambushing them. Sure, he had the help and the powers of a spirit now, but nonetheless, he was still on his own, while the warriors of this tribe were possibly in their hundreds. Only when he reached their village and saw some guards watching the borders of their territory, it briefly came to his mind, that he alone was no thread to them. But the spirit, who was now the other part of him, only laughed and said just one word: “Kill.”
And Otaktay obeyed. As soon as this one word reached his mind, his whole past self was gone. He forgot who he was and even why he was here, the only thing that mattered now, was to kill. With a deep and fearsome growl, he announced his presence right before he striked.
He did not kill all of them, just the warriors and any of the others, who were bold enough to try to stop him, and when he was done, he searched for the chief, who had run away and hid, just as Otaktay had done himself, when they had raided his village. But the chief could not hide and was soon be found by the beast, a thing with the mind of a revengeful spirit and the body of a rageful Viscet, that already had begun to change: His once smooth horns had begun to twist, like the vines on the spirit’s body, and he had grown spikes like the spirit’s thorns and hooves had traded place with the paws on his hindlegs, too.
This was the sight, that the chief was greeted with and the sight, that was the last thing, he would ever see. Otaktay, or whatever he was now, smiled viciously, his claws reaching out for the once proud chief, who was now trembling and begging for his life. The begging made him laugh.
“Beg all you want.” He growled. “Did my father beg too? Did my brother? Did my mother? If you did not listen to them plead, why should I listen to you?”
A scream was heard, so loud, that the birds hastily fled into the sky and every animal on the ground was looking for a place to hide. Then – silence.
But whoever might be listen close, was able to hear the noises of the Wechuge, chewing and growling, eating the heart of his enemy, gaining his wisdom and his strength, his silhouette nothing but a mere shadow in the moonlight.
In one of these tribal villages lived a young man, whose name was Otaktay. Otaktay was not particularly skilled in anything – he was a fine rider, but he fell off more often than he liked to admit; he was good enough for caring for the crops and flowers and he at least was able to feed the animals, his family owned, but that’s about it.
His given name had left the whole village in high hope – Otaktay. He, who kills many. The warriors had hoped, that he would become one of them, a skilled user of the blade or the arrow, killing many enemies and keeping the village safe. The hunters had hoped, that he would become one of them, with sharp eyes and ears, providing animals for food and crafting. But it turned out, that Otaktay was neither.
As his mother was a hunter and his father a warrior, he was trained in archery from a young age, but it was soon obvious, that the boy was anything but skilled. He wasn’t able to hold the bow straight, every arrow he shot landed miles away from the target and he couldn’t handle a spear or a simple dagger either. When he hurt himself with a knife once, while trying to skin a rabbit, he fainted, as soon as he saw a single trop of blood. Otaktay was a hopeless case.
He didn’t have the personality traits for a hunter nor a warrior either. Instead of being sly and cunning, perhaps even slightly aggressive, focused and daring, Otaktay was a coward. He did not only fear the sight of blood, but he was afraid of nearly everything. It took him until his late teens, until he finally agreed trying to ride a horse, because he had been so afraid of the big beasts. He was afraid of the hounds, too, not to mention the buffaloes. He also retreated as soon as someone raised their voice and even refused to participate in playful fights with boys his age. His own shadow scared him.
And although everyone mocked him for his cowardice, in the end, it still somehow saved his life. That fateful day started just as any other – the sky was clear blue, and the sun was shining down. The tribespeople were calm, hardly any of them was working after noon, as it was way too hot for any activities. Some children were playing in the river, most adults sought the shadows of their tepees and for them, life felt good. None of them were suspecting anything, even though their shaman had warned them of a red summer drawing near.
Otaktay was enjoying the silence, he certainly favoured those calm days over the very busy ones. When the enemy tribe attacked, he didn’t even notice, at first, as they did not come running and screaming, but they came silently. Thus, it was not a sudden noise, that Otaktay was alarmed by, no. It was rather the fact, that the silence had begun to feel uncomfortable. It was his sole luck, that he happened to sit close to the forest and as soon as he laid eyes on one of the enemy warriors decapitating his father, he turned around and ran.
He ran as fast as he could and did the only thing, that he had ever been good at doing: cowering and hiding. He hid for hours and hours, until his limps felt numb, his mouth was dry of thirst and his stomach growled for food – but he still did not dare to move. Afraid of dying, he cowered behind a great rock, holding his breath whenever he thought to hear a noise. He sat there for days, scared to death, that they might find him. But they never did.
Only after a few days, Otaktay gave up on hiding. He was too thirsty, too hungry and too tired to hide anymore, and even his panicking self, did tell him over and over again, that the enemies were gone. He left his hiding place and slowly went back to his tribe’s village, afraid of what might await him there. If asked, Otaktay would not have been able to tell, what he expected to find, but it certainly was not this: There was no sign of life left, everywhere he looked, he saw dead bodies and raided tepees. It was as if he had stepped right into a dystopian horror scenario; he went on searching the grounds for hours, but he could not find a single remaining living being, except for some of the livestock, that the enemy tribe had left behind.
Otaktay was shaken and sad. He sank on his knees, gazed at the sky and let out a loud and desperate cry, a cry that was even heard by the spirits and woke some of them from their eternal slumber. Something else was woken, too: For the first time in his life, Otaktay felt his heard being taken over by an emotion, as strong as a mountain and as dangerous as a volcano. He felt anger. Anger and rage, the call for revenge. A part of him blamed himself, perhaps because he happened to be the only one still alive – and that just, because he had been a coward.
And now, Otaktay decided, that he did not want to be a coward anymore. He wanted to avenge his tribe, his family, and have the enemies pay for the sins they committed. He was not stupid, nonetheless, and he knew, that he would not be able to do this on his own. Therefore, he searched for the tent of the Shaman, who was not spared either, sat down next to his corpse, took a deep breath and started meditating. He actually had not a clue, if it would even work, but it was the only thing that he thought he could do.
He sat there and meditated. For hours and hours, even though he was tired and hungry and thirsty. But the call for revenge was louder.
The realm of the spirits is a place, that can hardly be described with words. It is so vastly different to the planet of eqorah, that we all know, but yet so similar. The place appears to be only black and white and yet, at the same time, full of amazing colours. Completely silent, not a single sound to be heard, but full of wonderful music. Most of the realm was empty, as most spirits had already decided to leave, because their people did not believe in them anymore. Other spirits were still there, but they ignored Otaktay and his pleads for help.
Only one of them listened. And answered. Otaktay heard a deep and soothing voice calling out for him, telling him, that everything would be fine and that he would help him avenge his family. He told him, that he just had to wait, and the spirit would soon accompany him in the realm of the mortals. “Don’t be afraid, when you see me.” The voice echoed through Otaktay’s head. “Go back to the forest and wait for me. I shall come to you after sunset.”
And with his heart full of trust for the spirit and anger for his enemies, Otaktay obeyed. He rose and left his village behind once again, but this time not to hide, but to wait. Dusk came soon and with the dawn, Otaktay’s fear came, too. While the rage so far had had him forget his fear, now it was back, as he was staring at the blackness of the deep forest. When he had been in there, hiding, he had just closed his eyes, but this time, he had to keep them open. He had to wait for spirit, that generously offered to help him.
As the spirit promised, he came just after sunset, and he was nothing Otaktay could have expected. Growing up, the young Viscet had learned, that spirits were able to take the form of an animal, when they came down to earth. He learned about father wind, who soared through the skies in the shape of an eagle and his son the ocean, who showed himself as a great water snake.
But the sight that appeared in front of him, stepping out of the shadows of the trees, was anything but an animal. It did have hooves, similar to a deer’s, and it had huge antlers too, but nothing else was even close to be comparable to the beauty of nature, no, what Otaktay saw, resembled a nightmare.
The create appeared to be made of bones and vines and the little spots of fur it had, reeked of decease. The hooves were strong and the noise they made, made Otaktay sick. The monster’s thorax was open and empty, except for the heart, which glowed dimly in the darkness, softly beating and emitting a cold, that made Otaktay shiver. The skull bared sharp teeth and empty eye sockets, the front legs were arms with bony claws, reaching out for the young Viscet. The creature snickered and growled, it appeared to be highly amused by Otaktay’s fear, who stumbled backwards over a root and fell into the grass. Once again, he was scared to death and sure, that he would have to die, but the monster did not attack, it only spoke in a voice, that Otaktay was familiar with.
“I promised I would come by sunset. I promised I would help you avenge your tribe.”
As horrendous the sight of the creature was, as soothing its voice appeared to be. To Otaktay, it was inexplicable, but as soon, as he heard the creature speak, his fear was gone, trading places with anger and rage once again. Nothing in the world meant more to him right now, than the thought of revenge and his creature was able to help him. Only the thought of that, and nothing more, allowed Otaktay to raise and walk towards the spirit, who now seemed to be amused by Otaktay’s change of mood.
“Fine, fine.” It growled, its claws reaching out for the Viscet. “Take my power as a gift and an aid. Let me accompany on your search for revenge.”
He hesitated for just a moment and then took the repulsive looking paw, or hand, or whatever you might call living bones, twined together by twisty roots. As soon as the two beings touched, the air changed, and an immense bright bolt of light was to be seen. Otaktay had closed his eyes, to shield himself from the brightness, and when he opened them again, the spirit was gone. However, it was not completely gone, as the Viscet could feel, that it was still there: Inside of him. They were one now.
And together, as one, the two left the forest and went on their way to find the enemy tribe, that was responsible for the eradication of Otaktay’s whole village. And just as they felt no danger drawing closer a few days ago, just before they were raided, the other tribe was in great mood, celebrating their victory over the other. Otaktay could not help but smile over the sight and the sounds of the celebrations.
What a shame, he thought. What a shame, the celebrations would not last long. Not for them, at least. What a shame, indeed.
While travelling there, Otaktay had not spared a single thought to how he planned on ambushing them. Sure, he had the help and the powers of a spirit now, but nonetheless, he was still on his own, while the warriors of this tribe were possibly in their hundreds. Only when he reached their village and saw some guards watching the borders of their territory, it briefly came to his mind, that he alone was no thread to them. But the spirit, who was now the other part of him, only laughed and said just one word: “Kill.”
And Otaktay obeyed. As soon as this one word reached his mind, his whole past self was gone. He forgot who he was and even why he was here, the only thing that mattered now, was to kill. With a deep and fearsome growl, he announced his presence right before he striked.
He did not kill all of them, just the warriors and any of the others, who were bold enough to try to stop him, and when he was done, he searched for the chief, who had run away and hid, just as Otaktay had done himself, when they had raided his village. But the chief could not hide and was soon be found by the beast, a thing with the mind of a revengeful spirit and the body of a rageful Viscet, that already had begun to change: His once smooth horns had begun to twist, like the vines on the spirit’s body, and he had grown spikes like the spirit’s thorns and hooves had traded place with the paws on his hindlegs, too.
This was the sight, that the chief was greeted with and the sight, that was the last thing, he would ever see. Otaktay, or whatever he was now, smiled viciously, his claws reaching out for the once proud chief, who was now trembling and begging for his life. The begging made him laugh.
“Beg all you want.” He growled. “Did my father beg too? Did my brother? Did my mother? If you did not listen to them plead, why should I listen to you?”
A scream was heard, so loud, that the birds hastily fled into the sky and every animal on the ground was looking for a place to hide. Then – silence.
But whoever might be listen close, was able to hear the noises of the Wechuge, chewing and growling, eating the heart of his enemy, gaining his wisdom and his strength, his silhouette nothing but a mere shadow in the moonlight.