Wicked Claw

A black fured Razorclaw Shifter who commands the forces of nature!

Description:

I’m a druid! I am the child of a druid who was the child of a druid. My family has been druids for as long as we can remember.

Bio:

The zombies stood still as their master gave them orders, “Go into the village and kill everyone!” Slowly, but with purpose, the zombies shambled towards the unsuspecting village and it’s inhabitants. Unbeknownst to the mindless undead or their master, a large black panther had been stalking this troop for over a day after picking up their foul stench. The powerful beast shivered as it heard the first futile screams of the victims of the undead. The beast snuck closer and closer, hoping to find an appropriate ambush spot. It situated itself upon the top of a shed behind a large family house; the sounds of a struggle could be heard within the residence and with a deafening crash an old man was thrown through the rear window of the house. At the same time, a small boy, no more than 12 seasons old, ducked out from the shadows of the now broken house; he started to flee but stopped and looked back at his elder, fear written all over his face. “RUN GESTON!” were the last words the old man muttered as several zombies fell upon his broken body and began to feast. The child started to run but was blocked on all sides by the advancing horde; he tripped over a slain town guard and picked up the unfamiliar sword in his trembling hands, tears streaming down his face. Without cause, the horde stopped dead in it’s tracks. Hideous laughter rose from behind the mass of undead minions, “Do you have what it takes to use that, boy?” The question came from the vile master of this advanced raiding party, a ghastly warrior who’s very presence stole the warmth from the air. The panther had adjusted its position to better see this cruel, one-sided battle; blinking its eyes, it stared at the unfolding scene below it. The child took a deep breath and steadied himself; he reworked his grip on the sword and put it between himself and the Wight, fear had now been replaced by raw adrenaline. The Wight motioned and 1 zombie staggered forward, SLASH!, the child cut the zombie down. Again the Wight motioned and another 2 zombies moved forward to finish what their comrade had failed to do. BOOM! The area surrounding the undead burst into flames and the undead recoiled in instinctive fear! In a flash of fur and teeth, the large panther leaped onto the Wight and tore it apart; it then leaped backward towards the child. The child looked on in amazement as the large cat became something human and landed next to him, “Follow me, boy.” It was not a question or a suggestion but a primal order to the child’s sense of preservation. With a twirl of his cloak and staff the man was again a panther and off and tearing through the undead horde. It seemed like an eternity but soon the child and the large cat were alone in the woods; in a twist of flesh the man was before him again. “Do you know why you lived?”, he asked. “You saved me”, the child responded. “No!” the words were harsh but carried a weight to them, “You saved yourself. You proved to them, and the world, that you would not go quietly into the night, that you would rather fight and die than roll over and surrender to anybody. That is why you survived.” The child pondered this and nodded, “I think I understand. But why did you help me?” Looking the young man (for he was now a man) square in the face, Wicked Claw spoke, “Our world needs men who will not surrender.” With that, the druid was gone. The young man sat and cried, for he knew the druid spoke true…

Wicked Claw

Points of Light MrNobody56