Legend of the White Wolf - Guardian of the Forest
Quote from Indy on July 22, 2023, 4:31 pmForeword: This tale has been passed down by word-of-mouth in pack's such Prima to serve as an explanation for the existence of werewolves. It plausibly has integrated into other pack cultures as well. No one can say when exactly this story first came into circulation. More study would be required against other cultures to determine any shared origins.
There was once a well-respected hunter who lived in a village. Every week he brought in healthy game to market. The meat was prized as the highest quality and fit for the high of birth; the furs and pelts of the animals were considered luxurious enough for fine clothing. He soon grew a reputation for himself among more than his local village—persons far and wide would travel just to buy his goods. His business exploded in wealth and soon the hunter could not provide for the demands that were placed on him.
Every day he had to venture farther into the woods for his hunting. But see, such a thing was dangerous to do. It was said the farther you went into the forest, the more the ancient spirits would stir. The hunter knew this, of course, but the quality of beast and their ignorance of his weapon made it too enticing of an opportunity to pass. He was piling in stacks of animals to the markets and coin was growing heavy in his pocket—he was a simple man who could not refuse this wealth because of mere hearsay on what spirits may do.
One day, the hunter ventured too far into the woods. The trees were strange here, towering in such a way that it seemed they had eyes that were watching him. He saw odd flowers that seemed to swivel their sweet-smelling heads toward him as he walked. He heard rustling in the bushes—but every time he snapped his head to look, even his acute senses could detect nothing. Further and further he walked, until at last he came to an interwoven cove of trees. Standing in the center stood a white wolf.
The wolf was such the hunter had never seen before. It was huge— at least the height of a tall man at its shoulder and its eyes the size of dinner plates. It had gentle ivory claws, clear pool-blue eyes, and long silky white fur that blended into the wind as fine wisps. The hunter knew such a beast had never been seen before by man’s eyes, and may never be again. But rather than sparing such a rare creature, he drew his bow and released, thinking only of the fame such a kill might bring him.
The bow sank into the white wolf’s flank, true to aim. But no blood came from the wound. It only stuck at its side like an inconvenient splinter. The wolf considered him slowly. Then it opened its maw and spoke.
“Leave hunter, and never return,” it said,”You have disturbed the flow of nature where you have walked by taking kills of my creatures. This is not a place for man to bring his death with him”
The hunter disregarded these words as a passing breeze. He took aim at the wolf again and an arrow appeared where the wolf’s heart should be.
“I will warn you once more hunter. Long have we spirits ignored the doings of man. We have considered you a creature bound to the laws of nature as much as any other. But try to step above these laws and you will pay with a heavy sacrifice. Take aim carefully hunter, for what you do will define you and many others to follow”.
The hunter heard the words the wolf had spoken-- or rather, that it had spoken words. He paid little heed to their meaning, little thought to their significance—this was a mere wolf, what did it know of reason? This must be a new sort of creature, the hunter thought. Much like how some birds could learn to mimic human words, this must be a kind of wolf that learned to mimic human speech. He was the first to ever lay eyes on such a beast! Imagine if he could kill it and return it to the learned men, who might be able to analyze its body and learn the secrets of its stolen words. He would be famous, perhaps the most famous man of the century. Perhaps more spoken of than the lords of the land. Perhaps remembered thousands of years after his death!
The hunter raised his bow and took careful aim directly into the center of one of the wolf’s blue eyes. True to its mark the arrow sank. The hunter howled in delight. Surely no beast could sustain such a blow, regardless to how strongly it might be built.
Again, no blood fell from the wound. The wolf’s maw opened, but no words came. Only a long sustained snarl filled the forest and made the air feel cold. Again the hunter drew his bow. And again. And again. Until every arrow was gone. Still the wolf seemed unfazed and it’s growl all the more sinister. The hunter was afraid, suddenly realizing that this was no creature of flesh and blood, and took flight into the woods. He knew these woods well, perhaps better than any spirit. If he could reach the village he might be safe and the wolf could not follow.
But no matter what turn he took, the hunter could not find the narrow path that led towards the village. In the distance he could hear the wolf pursue, it’s snarl lacing the very wind that flew past him. For seven days the hunter fled, sustained on water he found in the streams and food he had in his knapsack. He used every trick he could think to shake the beast, every ounce of innovation he had to his mind. But at last the hunter’s strength and mind were depleted. On the seventh day, he found himself panting deeply by the side of a glade. The full moon was shining her white light down upon him so he seemed to stand out like a beacon in the dark woods.
The wolf spirit approached slowly. It was more frightening than it was the day he had beheld it. It’s blue eyes were gone—in its place were gaping black voids. It’s fur now was a dark silver that just seemed to blend into the darkness. It was massive now—certainly it hadn’t been so tall against the trees before! It’s limbs were more powerfully built, it’s teeth a sick glint in the darkness. When it spoke, its words seemed barely distinguishable from its snarls.
“You will pay for your folly human, and all those who will follow. No longer can man be excused as just a mere creature. You have made it clear you will not follow the laws we have set for you. You pride yourself for your mind, hunter, and so we shall take it from you—for it is that very thing that makes you believe you are better than the natural order. Consider these your final thoughts. I will offer you this moment to speak your final words of intellect, so choose them carefully”
The hunter had no energy to even scream. It seemed he had only enough energy to speak, and so he did.
“Spirit… I am sorry,” the hunter wheezed sadly,” I thought but did not think. Every time I killed a creature in these woods, I was thinking only of my fame or of my skill. But I did not think to consider the natural order and that perhaps because of my hand some of the creatures I killed might be the last of their kind. I am not worthy to play the hand of fate. I cannot ask your forgiveness so I will accept whatever curse you see fit onto me. But I beg you spirit, do not to doom others of my kind because of what I have done”
The white wolf was momentarily quiet. It’s raging snarl had grown quiet, it’s eyes returned to their even deep blue, and it’s pelt once more was a glowing white. It was now the size of a single man—no taller, no shorter.
“I am sorry human, but you are not the first to do as you have done. You must be the last, or else this world may fall into ruin. I do not inflict this punishment with pleasure”.
“Please,” the hunter—just a mere man—whimpered, “There must be another way. I cannot bear to think my actions have doomed them all. Please wolf, see some way to spare us. I promise to do whatever it takes”.
Now the wolf considered and raised a single resounding howl to the sky. It consulted with the other spirits and for a great deal of hours they conversed. As the moon reached the crown of the sky, a verdict was reached and the white wolf spoke again to the man.
“There is nothing I can do to spare you and your kind from this curse” began the wolf.
The man struggled to hold back a heaving sob—
“ However, I will offer humanity a chance to redeem itself. Find within you more than monsters of greed and shortsightedness and perhaps all are not doomed.
You will be the First to carry this message. By the sun you will be a man, by the moon you will take the form of the wolf you tried to kill. Your bite will carry this infliction, but your mind can fight such an urge. Should your humanity prove stronger than the beast within, then perhaps you will not be lost.
Add members to your pack to who you see fit to carry this message; but realize they too will now carry the burden you now have”
The white wolf opened its massive jaws and clamped onto the shoulder of the man. The man did squirm from the pain, but the fight had left him long ago. He held limp as he received his punishment and salvation. His body grew to the form of the wolf he had tried to kill and he spent many years in the Great White Wolf’s forest.
Only when he and his wolf were of one creature did he return to the realm of man. Now forgotten for his fame and shunned by the villagers as a monster, he stayed at the outskirts of the village with the ill and the despised. Of those outcasts he deemed worthy, he added to his pack. They became guardians of the forest, protecting it from the tainted greed of man.
The man they called alpha had no name, as he had shed that vestige of his early life when he had returned. He was only known as “First” as it is from him all of our kind do seed.
Foreword: This tale has been passed down by word-of-mouth in pack's such Prima to serve as an explanation for the existence of werewolves. It plausibly has integrated into other pack cultures as well. No one can say when exactly this story first came into circulation. More study would be required against other cultures to determine any shared origins.
There was once a well-respected hunter who lived in a village. Every week he brought in healthy game to market. The meat was prized as the highest quality and fit for the high of birth; the furs and pelts of the animals were considered luxurious enough for fine clothing. He soon grew a reputation for himself among more than his local village—persons far and wide would travel just to buy his goods. His business exploded in wealth and soon the hunter could not provide for the demands that were placed on him.
Every day he had to venture farther into the woods for his hunting. But see, such a thing was dangerous to do. It was said the farther you went into the forest, the more the ancient spirits would stir. The hunter knew this, of course, but the quality of beast and their ignorance of his weapon made it too enticing of an opportunity to pass. He was piling in stacks of animals to the markets and coin was growing heavy in his pocket—he was a simple man who could not refuse this wealth because of mere hearsay on what spirits may do.
One day, the hunter ventured too far into the woods. The trees were strange here, towering in such a way that it seemed they had eyes that were watching him. He saw odd flowers that seemed to swivel their sweet-smelling heads toward him as he walked. He heard rustling in the bushes—but every time he snapped his head to look, even his acute senses could detect nothing. Further and further he walked, until at last he came to an interwoven cove of trees. Standing in the center stood a white wolf.
The wolf was such the hunter had never seen before. It was huge— at least the height of a tall man at its shoulder and its eyes the size of dinner plates. It had gentle ivory claws, clear pool-blue eyes, and long silky white fur that blended into the wind as fine wisps. The hunter knew such a beast had never been seen before by man’s eyes, and may never be again. But rather than sparing such a rare creature, he drew his bow and released, thinking only of the fame such a kill might bring him.
The bow sank into the white wolf’s flank, true to aim. But no blood came from the wound. It only stuck at its side like an inconvenient splinter. The wolf considered him slowly. Then it opened its maw and spoke.
“Leave hunter, and never return,” it said,”You have disturbed the flow of nature where you have walked by taking kills of my creatures. This is not a place for man to bring his death with him”
The hunter disregarded these words as a passing breeze. He took aim at the wolf again and an arrow appeared where the wolf’s heart should be.
“I will warn you once more hunter. Long have we spirits ignored the doings of man. We have considered you a creature bound to the laws of nature as much as any other. But try to step above these laws and you will pay with a heavy sacrifice. Take aim carefully hunter, for what you do will define you and many others to follow”.
The hunter heard the words the wolf had spoken-- or rather, that it had spoken words. He paid little heed to their meaning, little thought to their significance—this was a mere wolf, what did it know of reason? This must be a new sort of creature, the hunter thought. Much like how some birds could learn to mimic human words, this must be a kind of wolf that learned to mimic human speech. He was the first to ever lay eyes on such a beast! Imagine if he could kill it and return it to the learned men, who might be able to analyze its body and learn the secrets of its stolen words. He would be famous, perhaps the most famous man of the century. Perhaps more spoken of than the lords of the land. Perhaps remembered thousands of years after his death!
The hunter raised his bow and took careful aim directly into the center of one of the wolf’s blue eyes. True to its mark the arrow sank. The hunter howled in delight. Surely no beast could sustain such a blow, regardless to how strongly it might be built.
Again, no blood fell from the wound. The wolf’s maw opened, but no words came. Only a long sustained snarl filled the forest and made the air feel cold. Again the hunter drew his bow. And again. And again. Until every arrow was gone. Still the wolf seemed unfazed and it’s growl all the more sinister. The hunter was afraid, suddenly realizing that this was no creature of flesh and blood, and took flight into the woods. He knew these woods well, perhaps better than any spirit. If he could reach the village he might be safe and the wolf could not follow.
But no matter what turn he took, the hunter could not find the narrow path that led towards the village. In the distance he could hear the wolf pursue, it’s snarl lacing the very wind that flew past him. For seven days the hunter fled, sustained on water he found in the streams and food he had in his knapsack. He used every trick he could think to shake the beast, every ounce of innovation he had to his mind. But at last the hunter’s strength and mind were depleted. On the seventh day, he found himself panting deeply by the side of a glade. The full moon was shining her white light down upon him so he seemed to stand out like a beacon in the dark woods.
The wolf spirit approached slowly. It was more frightening than it was the day he had beheld it. It’s blue eyes were gone—in its place were gaping black voids. It’s fur now was a dark silver that just seemed to blend into the darkness. It was massive now—certainly it hadn’t been so tall against the trees before! It’s limbs were more powerfully built, it’s teeth a sick glint in the darkness. When it spoke, its words seemed barely distinguishable from its snarls.
“You will pay for your folly human, and all those who will follow. No longer can man be excused as just a mere creature. You have made it clear you will not follow the laws we have set for you. You pride yourself for your mind, hunter, and so we shall take it from you—for it is that very thing that makes you believe you are better than the natural order. Consider these your final thoughts. I will offer you this moment to speak your final words of intellect, so choose them carefully”
The hunter had no energy to even scream. It seemed he had only enough energy to speak, and so he did.
“Spirit… I am sorry,” the hunter wheezed sadly,” I thought but did not think. Every time I killed a creature in these woods, I was thinking only of my fame or of my skill. But I did not think to consider the natural order and that perhaps because of my hand some of the creatures I killed might be the last of their kind. I am not worthy to play the hand of fate. I cannot ask your forgiveness so I will accept whatever curse you see fit onto me. But I beg you spirit, do not to doom others of my kind because of what I have done”
The white wolf was momentarily quiet. It’s raging snarl had grown quiet, it’s eyes returned to their even deep blue, and it’s pelt once more was a glowing white. It was now the size of a single man—no taller, no shorter.
“I am sorry human, but you are not the first to do as you have done. You must be the last, or else this world may fall into ruin. I do not inflict this punishment with pleasure”.
“Please,” the hunter—just a mere man—whimpered, “There must be another way. I cannot bear to think my actions have doomed them all. Please wolf, see some way to spare us. I promise to do whatever it takes”.
Now the wolf considered and raised a single resounding howl to the sky. It consulted with the other spirits and for a great deal of hours they conversed. As the moon reached the crown of the sky, a verdict was reached and the white wolf spoke again to the man.
“There is nothing I can do to spare you and your kind from this curse” began the wolf.
The man struggled to hold back a heaving sob—
“ However, I will offer humanity a chance to redeem itself. Find within you more than monsters of greed and shortsightedness and perhaps all are not doomed.
You will be the First to carry this message. By the sun you will be a man, by the moon you will take the form of the wolf you tried to kill. Your bite will carry this infliction, but your mind can fight such an urge. Should your humanity prove stronger than the beast within, then perhaps you will not be lost.
Add members to your pack to who you see fit to carry this message; but realize they too will now carry the burden you now have”
The white wolf opened its massive jaws and clamped onto the shoulder of the man. The man did squirm from the pain, but the fight had left him long ago. He held limp as he received his punishment and salvation. His body grew to the form of the wolf he had tried to kill and he spent many years in the Great White Wolf’s forest.
Only when he and his wolf were of one creature did he return to the realm of man. Now forgotten for his fame and shunned by the villagers as a monster, he stayed at the outskirts of the village with the ill and the despised. Of those outcasts he deemed worthy, he added to his pack. They became guardians of the forest, protecting it from the tainted greed of man.
The man they called alpha had no name, as he had shed that vestige of his early life when he had returned. He was only known as “First” as it is from him all of our kind do seed.
Quote from Indy on August 6, 2023, 9:20 pmForeword: This story has circulated among the Prima pack as long as the Legend of the White Wolf. It is often told together. This story was shared by previous pack-member Theo.
Woman's Face - Tears of the First
We called it ‘Woman’s face’ or sometimes ‘Tears of the First’.
It’s based on a legend of a woman, who was married to the first werewolf. The First had angered the spirits, so as penance, he became the first werewolf.
He disappeared for a few years while he was learning how to be a werewolf and his wife didn’t know what happened to him. When he finally came from the woods, and told her what he was, she wasn’t very happy. He wasn’t quite a man anymore, and his control wasn’t very good. In those early days, he ran rampant through the town on full moons and the villagers were scared of him.
His wife was desperate so one night she decided she would burn down the woods that took him. She grabbed a torch and a company of close friends, and set blaze to deep in the heart of the woods. She got separated from her friends and she could not find a way out from the blaze… finally the spirits appeared before her, angered, and demanded she would pay with her life.
The woman accepted these terms, yet pleaded that her husband could be set free from his curse in exchange. The spirits denied her, yet were so moved by her dedication, that they agreed her life might be used to make his wolf gentler, and all those like him.
From her ashes, white flowers grew, and soon spread all throughout the forest. Finally the First went to the woods to look for his wife, and when he saw the flowers, cried over them for he knew what happened… from that day onward, any that ate those flowers found control easier.”
That's what we celebrate in the Flower Festival. They can only be harvested at certain times of the year, so it’s a big celebration.
Foreword: This story has circulated among the Prima pack as long as the Legend of the White Wolf. It is often told together. This story was shared by previous pack-member Theo.
Woman's Face - Tears of the First
We called it ‘Woman’s face’ or sometimes ‘Tears of the First’.
It’s based on a legend of a woman, who was married to the first werewolf. The First had angered the spirits, so as penance, he became the first werewolf.
He disappeared for a few years while he was learning how to be a werewolf and his wife didn’t know what happened to him. When he finally came from the woods, and told her what he was, she wasn’t very happy. He wasn’t quite a man anymore, and his control wasn’t very good. In those early days, he ran rampant through the town on full moons and the villagers were scared of him.
His wife was desperate so one night she decided she would burn down the woods that took him. She grabbed a torch and a company of close friends, and set blaze to deep in the heart of the woods. She got separated from her friends and she could not find a way out from the blaze… finally the spirits appeared before her, angered, and demanded she would pay with her life.
The woman accepted these terms, yet pleaded that her husband could be set free from his curse in exchange. The spirits denied her, yet were so moved by her dedication, that they agreed her life might be used to make his wolf gentler, and all those like him.
From her ashes, white flowers grew, and soon spread all throughout the forest. Finally the First went to the woods to look for his wife, and when he saw the flowers, cried over them for he knew what happened… from that day onward, any that ate those flowers found control easier.”
That's what we celebrate in the Flower Festival. They can only be harvested at certain times of the year, so it’s a big celebration.
