Vorentia's Story #1
She did not wake easy that first night, the memories of her fallen brethren crushing her heart. Life had not been easy on Vorentia, having been born different to others. Her fur was white, a very uncommon colour for Southern Sergals, her eyes a having no definite colour either. She was born slightly taller than her brethren, only a half a foot below her mother at age 9. Her village was isolated, closed in between a large forest to the south, and a mountain range to the east and north. Her village wasn't big, and they worked hard keeping everyone safe from the war outside of their walls. The war had been going on for years before she was born, and had yet to find its way to her home.A few years had passed, her being teased and bullied by the Northerners whenever the came through. Her family was kind and caring for her, teaching her how to survive on her own, teaching her hunting and survival skills that might prove useful later in life. Soon, Vorentia was a master hunter and tracker, never using a weapon to hunt but her claws instead. While most frowned on her unusual behaviour, she found the blood of her prey soothing to her throat, its taste sparking a pleasure within her. Months rolled by, her life settling into a routine of hunting, cleaning, and being slaves to the Northerners.She didn't hate them as some Southerners would, she found them interesting, the way they carried their weapons, armour resting on their bodies. Once she was caught staring at a soldier and was beaten for it. She didn't cry in pain, she let them attack her, moaning when her blood coursed through into her mouth. She was left with scars that day, but never did she regret them. Her family were slaves to a Northern Sergal, him being a highly appraised member of General Rain. Once she was raped, simply for hesitating in an order from him. While it hurt, and left some scars, she always remembered the feeling, his cock thrusting in and out of her, taking her virginity. She didn't care, the feeling of being forced into such a intoxicating state driving her onward, wanting to feel him hit her, waiting for him to bite into her. Soon she would crave this as well, the feeling of control over others spurring her forwards.At the age of 14, the war had slowly swept towards their lands, but the tribe leaders never thought to relocate further south. Continuing life like they normally would, Vorentia stood at 5 feet tall, a bit taller than some of her tribe and all of the Sergals her age. Her white fur and grown out since then, slowly turning pink in places from her hunts. While she washed herself, she always felt that the blood left on her would be good for her, giving her pleasure when she killed. It was on one such night when she bathed that the Northerners attacked her tribe. The Northern Sergals were slaughtering all who stood before them. Not wanting to die so easily, Vorentia had slipped into the nearby forest, watching as her home was burnt to the
ground, her family lined up and slaughtered among the other Southern Sergals. Crying, she had escaped, running south through the forest.She walked for days upon days, hunting game when hungry and feasting on their blood and meat, never cooking it for risk of detection. Soon she became addicted to the smell and feeling of raw meat in her maw, blood dripping into her fur and slowly turning it from white to pink. She continued south, using the stars and sun to guide her. Many a time did she run into Northern Sergals, easily evading them and continuing, only once finding another tribe under attack. She just stood at the edge of the forest, watching as the Southern Sergals were dragged out and slaughtered, their blood running into the street. Every time she saw this, her heart fluttered, her belly groaning and her mouth salivating, the blood thick and flowing out of each Sergal.She moved off, not wanting to risk her life for that of others. Day turned night, and soon she found herself trapped between the forest and a Northerner camp. She couldn't escape this, starving slowly and craving the need for blood. She waited at the edge of the forest, studying their routine. She watched them drilling out in the field, teaching newer recruits sword training and combat stances. She watched as the leaders of the army walked around, yelling to Southerner slaves and beating them when they failed in their duty. It was not easy for her to sit by, not from wanting to help the Southerners, but from the rich blood that flowed from their bodies, whip marks clearly visible on their backs and chests.Days past, and soon she could no longer wait for them to move on. Walking out of the forest, she strode up into the camp, her presence alerting a few nearby guards her caught up to her and forced her towards a jail block. Without resisting she followed the guards, slowly letting them shackle her to a wall, restricting her hands behind her back. Tilting her head as the Sergals left, she wondered why she had done this, walking in to the camp like she did. Perhaps it was a combination of her need for blood, or wanting to be captured, or even the chance to help them, getting her own share of the blood.She was chained to the wall for several hours, her wrists growing sore. She stayed silent, waiting patiently for someone to come get her. Soon a guard came into her cell, dragging her out towards a large tent, its flap resting to the side. Shoved inside, she was forced to kneel before a Sergal, obviously of high position as he dismissed the guard."Who are you?" He commanded, tilting his head at her whilst peering into my eyes. Bringing my eyes to his, watching him scowl slightly, I replied, keeping my voice even. "My name is Vorentia..."The Northerner stood, walking forward and slapped her across the muzzle, bringing tears to her eyes. It hurt, a lot in fact, but she liked the pain, turning back to the Sergal in front of her. He then boomed
out, "You have no right to look at me, you have no rights at all." He stood over me, but when he looked into my eyes, he saw something. A cut was opened above my eyes, and soon blood pooled around my eyes, slowly sinking inside of them, turning the clear orbs pink, to red, to a crimson colour. Even in my young age, I was a beastly sight, blood red eyes and scars and cuts showing through my pink and white fur.Turning, he yelled to the guard. "Drag her to the torturers post, and see if they can get anything out of her."The guard complied, dragging and carrying me across the field, towards a small stone hut. Opening the door he threw me inside, turning and yelling to the torturer to come over.My blood seeped out of my wounds, pooling around the ground below me. Soon I began to feel light headed and giddy. I reached a paw down, soaking my hand in my blood, bringing it to my mouth and sucking it clean. The blood invigorated me, sending a tingle down my body. I felt refreshed, swirling my blood around my mouth, I swallowed it, letting it slide down my throat into my stomach.I sighed in pleasure, leaning back against the wall and letting my eyes close while I rest, waiting for the torturer to arrive.