The Wylds are a strange place where all manner of beings and legends abound; some speak of ancient trees that remember the times of the first days and that are willing to tell those patient enough to listen all about those times. Others will tell tales of the Melkarr using the power of the Wyld to Shift their forms into Wyld shapes and the Lycanthropes of ancient days but few nod to the Beast Speakers should they exist at all. It is said that there are places in the world that are known to the beasts where those mortals that sleep open their minds and their hearts to the world and take into themselves the power of not just the Wyld but of the beast that has selected them.
When they awaken they are changed, their perceptions different, their blood flowing with a new purpose. They are not taught, so legends tell us, by the words or sounds of human lips, nor Eaölf, nor Orc or other but instead they listen to the whisper song of the beast. Teaches them, it does, of instinct learned from generations long gone past or died but moments gone. The Beast Speaker. “The Beast Speaker…”
“Aye, I remember the first day and the change, the sounds I could hear, the taste of the air, the smell of a campfire miles distant. It was a fox that spoke to me in my dreams all quick and hunting through the dark. Cold eyes in dusk and the half smile on its lips when the scent of a fawn rolled in on the breeze. All the while I slep but I could feel rough paws soft padding and hard thundering through the soft earth of the forest, chasing, chasing the anticipation of flesh, warm, in my belly empty. When I awoke the world was a different place, I found people difficult but the quiet places easy and when I need the beast; the ears of the fox, eyes in the pitch black, they are never far away. Always with me, always, at the turn of my head or the sudden myoclonic twitch from sleep, it is once more the beast a’ speaking, man forgotten in a pinch. Those days? Sad to wake I am and be, once more, like you “Azilo Yuronomor – Beast Speaker