Post by ren on Aug 25, 2007 12:18:52 GMT -6
Brassa, the wise woman of the northern plains.
19 years old
Female
Mother of Tanka, Trinka, Garrett, Silka, Larka, and the adopted Vassago
She is a simple tawny and brass lioness, with age slowly creeping in.
19 years old
Female
Mother of Tanka, Trinka, Garrett, Silka, Larka, and the adopted Vassago
She is a simple tawny and brass lioness, with age slowly creeping in.
Lions and hyenas alike used to come from miles upon miles away, just to see her, the sage, the learned, the wise. Brassa never prided herself on this, merely listened and gave sound advice as she had always done, year in and year out, for nearly twenty years. At first, when she was young, so young! The elders ignored her, warned her against her brash mouth. But Brassa grew while they died out, and soon she was the sage others turned to. Her trouble only began, let us see, in the dry summer of her sixteenth year. By then she was old, so very old. Hardly a day went by when the pain in her legs didn't flare up, hobbling the old lioness, confining her to the den the pride had made for her. On this day, however, the pain was gone. Her old joints sang with the news - a day without pain! An hour, a minute, a second without that throbbing, enduring pain. And Brassa, old soul that she was, decided to take advantage of the clear day by taking a walk.
Oh, they scolded her of course - you're too old Brassa! You can't go wandering the savannah without an escort, you'll be killed! - but she paid them no heed. She was older than they, had helped reared their parents in some cases. They couldn't stop the old, crippled, tawny creature. They could only watch, helpless, as she wandered off. No one expected her to return. It was sad, but another ring in the circle of generations. She'd birthed six cubs now, three healthy and still alive. She'd led many prides, many hunts, many journeys. It seemed to be Brassa's time. But, alas, it was not. Following her in the dusky sunlight, a child of misfortune. The pride rushed to greet her, as if she were a long lost relative come home at last. They questioned the young, sickly creature at her feet, but said nothing.
Brassa had adopted her first child; what an unfortunate affair it turned into. Right away the boy, with his beady, untrusting eyes and mouth always set in a grimace, was at odds with the pride. He was cruel and sneaky, thriving in the dark. They didn't like this rusty-red intrusion, not at all. For a year the pride suffered, hating Vassago but loving sweet, kind old Brassa with her clear head and pragmatic mind. She always helped them, told them anything they asked; how could they send her Vassago away? The boy she delluded herself about, loved like her own child. By then Tank, Trinka, and even Garrett had left the pride and their aging mother, unabel to handle this aggressive new sibling. At last, Vassago was told to leave. Brassa was unhurt, and left with her boy without a goodbye.
Another year later, Brassa and Vassago were caught by a pair of humans, catching lions for their breeding program at a preservation some thirty miles west. They tried capturing only the young male, but finally gave in and took the elderly Brassa too. Right away, brassa was accepted into the newly established pride. She told stories to the cubs, offered good advice to the mothers, and took part in the choices made by the leader himself. She was valued their, as she always had been. Vassago, of course, was not. He planned escape. Yet brassa always knew! Always she would station guards near the fences, having her new pride act like a net for the wandering child she so loved. It wasn't until two of the pride's most loyal were found dead, smashed by rocks, that Brassa finally accepted that her Vassago was evil. Furthermore, that she must go after him. He was apt to hurt more and more, until his blood lust was sated, and she felt as though it was her burden to bear.
She has come now, seeking her hateful child, ready to finish him.
[/size]Oh, they scolded her of course - you're too old Brassa! You can't go wandering the savannah without an escort, you'll be killed! - but she paid them no heed. She was older than they, had helped reared their parents in some cases. They couldn't stop the old, crippled, tawny creature. They could only watch, helpless, as she wandered off. No one expected her to return. It was sad, but another ring in the circle of generations. She'd birthed six cubs now, three healthy and still alive. She'd led many prides, many hunts, many journeys. It seemed to be Brassa's time. But, alas, it was not. Following her in the dusky sunlight, a child of misfortune. The pride rushed to greet her, as if she were a long lost relative come home at last. They questioned the young, sickly creature at her feet, but said nothing.
Brassa had adopted her first child; what an unfortunate affair it turned into. Right away the boy, with his beady, untrusting eyes and mouth always set in a grimace, was at odds with the pride. He was cruel and sneaky, thriving in the dark. They didn't like this rusty-red intrusion, not at all. For a year the pride suffered, hating Vassago but loving sweet, kind old Brassa with her clear head and pragmatic mind. She always helped them, told them anything they asked; how could they send her Vassago away? The boy she delluded herself about, loved like her own child. By then Tank, Trinka, and even Garrett had left the pride and their aging mother, unabel to handle this aggressive new sibling. At last, Vassago was told to leave. Brassa was unhurt, and left with her boy without a goodbye.
Another year later, Brassa and Vassago were caught by a pair of humans, catching lions for their breeding program at a preservation some thirty miles west. They tried capturing only the young male, but finally gave in and took the elderly Brassa too. Right away, brassa was accepted into the newly established pride. She told stories to the cubs, offered good advice to the mothers, and took part in the choices made by the leader himself. She was valued their, as she always had been. Vassago, of course, was not. He planned escape. Yet brassa always knew! Always she would station guards near the fences, having her new pride act like a net for the wandering child she so loved. It wasn't until two of the pride's most loyal were found dead, smashed by rocks, that Brassa finally accepted that her Vassago was evil. Furthermore, that she must go after him. He was apt to hurt more and more, until his blood lust was sated, and she felt as though it was her burden to bear.
She has come now, seeking her hateful child, ready to finish him.
