Post by Sighani on Nov 14, 2009 20:19:55 GMT -5
CTHONIAN FAUNA
THE MOUNTAINS
Only the hardiest of beasts can survive in Cthonia's mist-shrouded peaks. The creatures that hide among ice-slicked crags are nimble-footed and sly, the most plentiful game consisting of small animals like rats and pikas, such prey hardly capable of sustaining the packs of hunger-twisted wolves that have so often fallen victim to the unforgiving cruelty of the mountains. Even these creatures have learned to adapt to the mountains' cruelty, resorting to cannibalism and corpse-feeding, and should their numbers allow it, they are quite capable of swarming sleeping wolves to feed upon warm and living flesh. Scattered intermitently through the might range are herds of gazelle and blue sheep, but the mountains make for dangerous hunting grounds, and the prey is far more accustomed to leaping ravines and crags than the wolves are, many hunters often sulking away in defeat, bloodied and battered by a meritless chace through a merciless environment. These animals are also not the tender-hooved beats of the lowlands, but rather strapped through with thick sinew, equipped with the natural weapons of razor hooves and iron horns, armed with a blood-stained cunning never seen in their more docile cousins. They are extremely territorial and will not hesitate to attack varg that draw too near their harems. Prowling through the raging winds and snows of the loftiest peaks are leopards, fangs that pierce like sabers and hooked claws flaking with the rust of old blood. Wolves often disappear into a haze of white noise between the wicked jaws of the leopards, a trail of crimson essence the only indication of the leopards' silent but brutal attacks. Because these cats are growing in number, their territories are overlapping and striving ever lower, and on a clear night their banshee screams can be heard even from the base of the mountains, entwined with the mountains' spectral howl, chilling the blood of even the bravest of wolves. They are the scourge of Cthonia and the greatest threat to the wolves, though it is quite rare indeed to see one stray from the white bastion the mountains offer.
THE FIELDS
The fields are far more tame than the looming mountains, but the shadow of those treacherous peaks stretches so far as to infect the game in the lowlands with keener senses and sharper intellect than prey in foreign lands. Enormous herds of yak blacken the scrub fields year-round, these mammoth creatures built of brute strength and tough to fell, but capable of sustaining even the largest of wolf packs. Hare are quite plentiful in this region as well and are decidedly the easiest prey to catch in Cthonia, for although they have been blessed with greater agility and stronger legs, they are cowardly beasts and, once in the jaws of a wolf, have little hope of inflicting enough damage to guarantee release. Black bears roam the fields, but they keep well enough to themselves, having no quarrel with the varg, and nary a wolf is senseless enough to tempt the blind wrath of a bear. Weasels, black-eyed and clever, often follow the footsteps of wolves like ghosts, scavenging from kills, but unless they possess the power of numbers, they hardly present a threat to even a small group of wolves.
THE BEACHES
Only the hardiest of beasts can survive in Cthonia's mist-shrouded peaks. The creatures that hide among ice-slicked crags are nimble-footed and sly, the most plentiful game consisting of small animals like rats and pikas, such prey hardly capable of sustaining the packs of hunger-twisted wolves that have so often fallen victim to the unforgiving cruelty of the mountains. Even these creatures have learned to adapt to the mountains' cruelty, resorting to cannibalism and corpse-feeding, and should their numbers allow it, they are quite capable of swarming sleeping wolves to feed upon warm and living flesh. Scattered intermitently through the might range are herds of gazelle and blue sheep, but the mountains make for dangerous hunting grounds, and the prey is far more accustomed to leaping ravines and crags than the wolves are, many hunters often sulking away in defeat, bloodied and battered by a meritless chace through a merciless environment. These animals are also not the tender-hooved beats of the lowlands, but rather strapped through with thick sinew, equipped with the natural weapons of razor hooves and iron horns, armed with a blood-stained cunning never seen in their more docile cousins. They are extremely territorial and will not hesitate to attack varg that draw too near their harems. Prowling through the raging winds and snows of the loftiest peaks are leopards, fangs that pierce like sabers and hooked claws flaking with the rust of old blood. Wolves often disappear into a haze of white noise between the wicked jaws of the leopards, a trail of crimson essence the only indication of the leopards' silent but brutal attacks. Because these cats are growing in number, their territories are overlapping and striving ever lower, and on a clear night their banshee screams can be heard even from the base of the mountains, entwined with the mountains' spectral howl, chilling the blood of even the bravest of wolves. They are the scourge of Cthonia and the greatest threat to the wolves, though it is quite rare indeed to see one stray from the white bastion the mountains offer.
THE FIELDS
The fields are far more tame than the looming mountains, but the shadow of those treacherous peaks stretches so far as to infect the game in the lowlands with keener senses and sharper intellect than prey in foreign lands. Enormous herds of yak blacken the scrub fields year-round, these mammoth creatures built of brute strength and tough to fell, but capable of sustaining even the largest of wolf packs. Hare are quite plentiful in this region as well and are decidedly the easiest prey to catch in Cthonia, for although they have been blessed with greater agility and stronger legs, they are cowardly beasts and, once in the jaws of a wolf, have little hope of inflicting enough damage to guarantee release. Black bears roam the fields, but they keep well enough to themselves, having no quarrel with the varg, and nary a wolf is senseless enough to tempt the blind wrath of a bear. Weasels, black-eyed and clever, often follow the footsteps of wolves like ghosts, scavenging from kills, but unless they possess the power of numbers, they hardly present a threat to even a small group of wolves.
THE BEACHES
Cthonia blazes with brilliant shades of gold and green as seasalt begins to find its way into the breeze, and the creatures in these parts are normally peaceful and without care, having been isolated from major predators for so long. The most common game consists of wild goat, who appear dark and cunning--and once were, long before the coming of Vergilius Patroklos--but have softened through the decades to a witless species. The musk deer are a rarer species, small and swift enough that they can conceal themselves within root tangles and shrubbery to avoid predators, armed with a pair of sharp tusks that jut out from their muzzles to deliver a wicked bite to any who draw too near for comfort. Closer to the ocean dwell vast colonies of monk seals, but the wolves do not often prey upon these creatures, finding them too alien and vicious for confrontation, and will often keep a respectable distance, though desperate times do call for desperate measures. Just as these seals dominate the white-sand shores, large raptors rule the skies, beaks and talons hooked to better slash through tender flesh, minds well-developed beyond the point of mere sentience. Were they possessed of blackened souls, they would present a formidable threat to the wolves of Cthonia, but purity and peace often claims the hearts of these birds, from the lowliest of vultures to the most noble of eagles. Because of their wisdom, the wolves of Cthonia often revere the raptors as guides and are willing to sacrifice portions of a kill to their winged companions.[/size]