|
| She was found within the dark dreary woods of Dekorah, within the basement of the Nuclear Waste Plant of Razza, which held thousands of gallons of acid, gasoline, oil and many other toxic substances. Lying within a puddle of oozing, emerald-colored acid was found a baby Zarthu. Her frame and wings drenched with the liquid, acid had torn away the vital flesh that held her vital fluids. Saved by the only furre who was on guard that night, a janitor, she was taken into a home far away in the country of Germany. She arrived in this new home, only to be cleaned and shipped off into the land of Furrabia where the Slave Pens had just been built. At an age of just six years, she had already been shipped off into slavery. Her frame was sleek and gentle but her feathered raven wings would never heal, constantly oozing dark red vitae from wounds that refused to recover. A long tail, bearing properties of both dragon and cat, hung from above her rear, her form covered in a short, silken layer of onyx fur. She was clothed in a mesh and leather tank top, which clung to her upper form as if glued there. Ill-fitted pants that were given to her by her savior cover her lower body, not revealing much about her form. She could be considered attractive by some definitions, but the state of her mind offset such beauty. Slowly and curiously, she roamed the pens in search of someone who would take care of such a young being, but only found those who were harsh, demonic, void, and cruel. They smacked her around, slashed her flesh, ripped her wings, and took poor care of the strange, exotic creature. This treatment destroyed any chance of the young creature growing up to be kind and understanding, instilling hatred into the very depths of her mind. She found many slavers all the same, and the harsh manner in which they treated her would only cause her to begin to take pleasure in the pain inflicted upon her. She would soon begin to take revenge for the atrocities committed against her, darting off to the dark side where she would unleash her terrible rage upon any who dared to rip her away from the sanctuary she found in the Slave Pens. Many years passed, and she went on like this, ripping apart slavers at their moment of pleasure after following them to a yiff room. She found pleasure in torturing these victims, and began to enjoy hearing their cries of pain as she slowly tore their bodies into shreds. She left their corpses for the next furre who searched out a room to yiff in. A furre would often walk in only to stumble across the remains of her last kill: blood, organs and ravaged flesh splattered upon the wall. She left a calling card in the form of a gruesome signature: the biohazard symbol painted on the wall in blood with three single nails smacked into the wall nearby. The massacres within the Slave Pens would catch up to her in the far future, but for now, she called the pens home, continuing to kill until she met a very curious Anubis. His fur was raven and jaded, and his appearance was that of someone sleek and very powerful. Meeting such a creature only brought a grin of pleasure upon her muzzle, as she knew he was good, she knew she could lure him into her trap. She fantasized about the great amount of pleasure she would receive from ripping him apart and screwing with his mind. She went with him, getting to know his tricks, his mind, his actions, and what he would do in the position she planned to put him in. Thus, he brought her out of the pen, only to take her to a yiff room, but yiff they did not. They fought for many hours, spoke, then fought again until many weeks went by. Being cooped up in such a small domain only weakened Klage's mind, and as she grew mentally insane she decided to let her victim escape her grasp until they met once again. She finally left the Slave Pens and began to explore the world around her, venturing far into the world of Furrabia. She met many creatures that shared her mindset, but none were of the same species as her. As far as she was concerned, she was the last. She knew little Unsure of her savior's name, she decided that she would seek them out, wanting to know more about her past. Roaming the small portals of Vinca and many others that she would encounter, she scoured every realm that she came across. She made a living through a band she formed, known as "Sehnsucht." The group was well known through the early ages of Furcadia, until her temper grew again. On one particularly cold night, she slaughtered every member of her band as they slept, tearing their bodies apart, bashing their skulls into fragments with a large wooden club she had found, spilling blood so thick that it formed puddles on the floor. She was once again alone. She continued the vigil of loneliness, until one day, she encountered a realm whose name she did not know. She entered, and seeking out a bar, she stalked through the shadows until the familiar sight met her eyes. Dragging her club with her, she emerged from the shadows, sitting silently at the bar. She waited until the bartender went into the back room, then silently stood, and followed him. Before he could scream, she had snapped his neck to the side with so much force that the skin of his neck tore. She collected a handful of nails from the storeroom in the back, taking them, a hammer, and her club, back out into the bar room. She sat at a table hidden in a shadowed corner, and begin to hammer the nails into the side of the club, creating a brutal, fearsome weapon that would slay many. The first to die by her new toy were the bar�s patrons, as she leapt from her seat as soon as the last nail was in. Of the fourteen furres in the bar, none of them ever had a chance. She savagely beat them to death with the nail-spiked club, ruthlessly tearing their bodies apart despite their screams and pleas for mercy. The last of the fourteen barely had made it to the door when she brutally thrust a fire stoker from the bar�s fireplace through his back. She delighted in the look in his eyes as he fell to the bar floor, his blood draining down through the cracks in the wooden door. She left the bar, the only furres who knew she was there having become her first new victims. However, her rage was uncontrollable. Over the next two months, she went on an unobstructed spree of murder, slaughtering entire families at times. Dozens died by her merciless hands, only several surviving. Those who survived her savagery to this day are missing limbs and have horrible deformations from where her club struck them. Many in the realm began to nickname her Klage Nacht, which had meant Complaining Night. It fit her well, for as she slaughtered her victims, she would always scream out at them. Curses would take to the sky in large number, and she ritually swore at them as she tore their bodies to shreds, often yelling out the name Konstantinos. Finally, a mob of furres gathered together in a posse, some of the strongest and bravest of the realm taking up arms to search for Klage. They hunted her down as she entered a village attempting to make her next strike. When they found her she had just finished taking the life of a family of two parents and three children. The mob beat Klage to the ground, leaving her a bloodied mess. The local priest referred to her as a demon, and thankfully, because of these furres� beliefs, she was not simply killed. Instead, they locked her in a dark, dreary asylum, located far from civilization at the top of a small, uninhabitable mountain. From here, her life and her mind slowly went down the drain. She was forced to live in a padded room measuring only twelve feet by twelve feet in size. She was put through electroshock therapy twice a day, and afterward, would have long, large needles forced into her skull. It seemed to be a game of twos, as she was only fed twice a day, as well. She was never let out of her room, and no visitors ever came for her, aside from the so-called doctors who almost seemed to enjoy tormenting her. They performed innocent experiments to determine what was wrong with her, but in her eyes, they were already guilty. For almost ten years she endured this torment in her tiny room, which contained a jail bed, a sink, a small porcelain tub, and a toilet without privacy. Every detail of her life, from relieving herself to scratching itches, was caught on an all-seeing camera. Finally, she couldn�t take it anymore. Klage snapped. She tore from her straightjacket with strength she didn�t know she had. In short order, the pads were torn from the walls, and the porcelain fixtures were crushed into oblivion. Before the orderlies could respond to the disturbance, she was already throwing herself against the steel door. |
 |
 |
| For the ones that are not in the history yet. I promise to get you in as soon as I can. Sorry!! >.<! |