Description
A fela no taller than five feet is here before you. At first,
you almost mistake her for a wild creature, but the upright
way she walks and the few pieces of armor she wears tips
you off as to her self-awareness. The fur that covers her
entire body is short and spotted, like a jaguar. Like many
fela, she seems quite agile on her paws. It may be your
imagination, but it looks at though her claws catch every
single ray of light in order to gleam dangerously and show
off their razor sharpness. The last thing you glance into
is her eyes. They radiate dark, wicked pleasure and malevolence
as they eye you cunningly. You also see evidence of a swelling
belly under her armor.
Role
So Much Prey, So Little Time
Added Mon May 9 14:05:14 2005 at level 27:
Mikatra, the name she affected from a sound escaping the lips
of a guard whose throat she was busily tearing out, was not
a gentle fela. It could be said that she is devious, cunning,
selfish, arrogant, whimsical, crazy, and plenty more. Still,
she doesn't really care for words of reputation, unless it
benefits her in some way.
There is much myth and legend surrounding the birth of Mikatra.
The night she was born in the jungle, there arose the sound
a screaming banshee, followed by ferocious growling and a
horrid deathcry. The headhunters believe a great demon spirit
had awoken. In actuality, nothing so glamorous happened.
Mikatra's mother had been a fugitive running from the lawmen
of Galadon. It also turned out she was pregnant with a single
kit. As she stumbled in labor pain into the entrance of the
jungle, the darkness of night enveloped her. There, among
the thick vegetation, she gave birth to Mikatra. There were
complications, however, and at the end, they killed her,
leaving a newborn fela to fend for herself.
It's always amazing how life seems to find a way. The fela,
cold and alone, crawled up and tore into her dead mother's
flesh, finding warmth and comfort in the lifeless body. When
she was hungry that first few weeks, before the corpse become
too rotted to eat, Mikatra ate the flesh of her mother. Much
of her youth is a blur, but it was mostly spent learning
to survive, to take what was needed and feed when possible.
Flash forward to maturity. Mikatra has become a strong and
wild fela. While anyone else might have lacked the patience
and skills of observation, she learned to speak from the
cries of the guards she tortured. She noticed that they
seemed to be able to communicate with one another with the
sounds coming from her mouth, and that if she mimicked them
just right, they would be foolish enough to come out of their
keep. From hiding, she would surprise them and quickly tear
their throats out. They tried to put up a resistance, but
their pinkish, soft human flesh was no match for the ferocity
of her claws. So, from their various screams and crying and
the twisting of a claw into a wound, keeping them alive
when she wasn't hungry to let their injuries fester with
disease, she learned to speak, or rather, to mimic. She was
fond of her name, however. She liked to think the guard she
was torturing was trying to say "My god!", and found it
ironic that she would take the place of this god by destroying
the guard and feasting on his flesh.
As time dredged forward, Mikatra expanded the territory of
her hunt well beyond the jungle. She came across towns and
villages and even great cities. So much prey, so little time...
The Meaning of Life
Added Wed May 18 23:49:22 2005 at level 43:
Mikatra first heard of the Dark Ancients and the Refuge from
a druid in the Holy Grove whose innards she was rearranging.
Pausing a moment in her dinner to explore the subject further,
she kept the druid alive long enough to learn the basics of
what she wished to know. The Dark Ancients, powerful and
ruthless, bloodthirsty and unforgiving, much like the headhunters
of the jungle she grew up in, were awoken with the ever-growing
foulness of civilization. Their dark displeasure sought to
plague and defile the sprawling cities and return to the
times of endless hunts. Mikatra surmised that if she came
to the Dark Ancients and appeased them with the destruction
of civilization, perhaps they would grant her their blessings
and she could become the greatest huntress in all of the land.
To the arrogant, aggressive, dark, and prideful fela, this
seemed a wise plan. With the raking of a few other druids,
Mikatra found the location of the refuge of Outlanders.
It did not take long before she was granted entrance and
hunted among those of the Refuge. Not only did she wish to
tear the throats out of any prey, but she also wished to
prove herself the greatest and strongest hunter of among
them. Whenever she could, she would challenge one of them
to fight. She would take the time to learn of their movements
and swings, often losing the first bout, but triumphing the
second. When it came time for her to aid the Tree against
attackers, she did so if only to please the Dark Ancients.
Helping was only useful if it benefitted her. Otherwise, it
was best just to let the other hunters deal with their
problems.
As she sat among the Trees, watching the setting sun, she
carefully preened herself and thought "This is what life is
all about."
Mating Ritual
Added Thu Jun 2 13:58:17 2005 at level 51:
At a time near the end of Mikatra's mating season, Fereksah
decided that he would give his spirit up to the Ancients.
While she would admit this to none, she had seen Fereksah
as a potential mate. Though, it was likely enough after mating
she would tear him limb from limb, but that scenario seemed
like it would never happen. A fela in heat, especially one
as wild and feral as Mikatra, has little control over their
actions, let alone strong animal magnetism. So when the only
other felar in the Tree decided to give up his place, Mikatra
cunningly devised a send-off. Graciously taking the nice
things he wore, she soon stripped him naked of all his
belongings. Then, removing her own clothing, she pounced
on him and attacked. To any onlookers, it may have looked
to be a fierce fight between two strong wild creatures vying
for dominance over one another. With her mating scent powerfully
intoxicating Fereksah, and her own desires overcoming any
rational thought, the two ended up in successful love throes.
And with one last swipe of her hindpaws raking his underbelly,
giving him no chance to ever mate again, Fereksah was dead.
With the felar having returned to the spirits and Mikatra
gaining leave of her senses again, life returned to normal
for her. Normal, of course, meant the tearing of throats
from her prey and feasting on their hides, burning down great
cities with gleeful joy, and rending the flesh of soft, defenseless
humans who insisted in creating giant stone and wood edifices
to 'protect' them from creatures like her. By the time her
next mating season came, she had all but forgotten Fereksah.
She knew the heat would come, as it did always in the past.
This time, however, it did not...