Private The Beasts of Gévaudan

[Darth Garoul]

The night enveloped the world in a shroud of darkness, broken only by the flickering light of a solitary campfire. Its flames danced and cast wavering shadows across the open fields, a vast expanse stretching out under a canopy of stars. The air was thick with anticipation and the distant, haunting call of nocturnal creatures.

Darth Garoul, his form draped in the blackest of robes, stood at the edge of the fire's glow. His mind raced back to the wedding reception, the awful day of reckoning turned into a night where whispers and glances had spoken volumes. He had noticed Gerwald Lechner then, a presence as enigmatic as his own, something in his eyes that mirrored the beast within Garoul himself. His suspicions were confirmed by the murmurs of his cults—Lechner was like him, a lycanthrope.

Curiosity had compelled him to arrange this meeting, choosing a location as secluded and untamed as the nature of their kind. The openness of the fields provided both the space and the secrecy necessary for such a rendezvous, far from the prying eyes of others. As he waited in the cool night air, Garoul's thoughts turned to the possibilities that lay before him. Would this be a meeting of minds, a clash of wills, or the beginning of something far greater?

He listened intently to the sounds of the night, waiting for the approach of the one who was as much a mystery to him as he was to others. The fire crackled softly, a reminder of the primal force that burned within both of them, waiting to be unleashed.

Gerwald Lechner ​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
TAG: Darth Garoul

The night was dark. It was preferable for the beasts which often used the pitch black as cover for their purposes. Whether ghoul, predator, or miscreant, the darkness served as a general description for all things done in secret whether for ill intent or not. Gerwald had many secret meetings under the cover of nightfall as a soldier. Stewjon had once been occupied by a nameless evil known only as the Dark Ones. War had ravaged their world for as long as Gerwald could remember of his youth. The fires of those war councils had burned bright, and the wolf was no stranger to their call.

It was a surprise to receive such an invitation from a fellow Sith. While many things happened in secret, many of those did not happen in a field or forest designed to call to the wolf which often desired to run free. In many ways Jutrand was a prison for Gerwald. He could not run freely anywhere he wished, as the urban city was not the same as the lush forest he craved. Since leaving Stewjon, Gerwald had only found solace in one world he called home for any length of time.

Naboo.

Much had changed since Naboo. Gerwald had changed since the cataclysm which saw the Confederacy of Independent Systems vacate the region of space they had held stable for so long. He had never expected he would make his bed among the Sith, but the wolf had also learned never to rule anything out. His decision had come with a price. There were those who had once followed him which no longer would. An apprentice had been lost, but Gerwald was hopeful they would return. Their connection was too strong to simply ignore.

As much as he wished the summons had been to reconcile with the apprentice he longed to have at his side once more, it was another matter entirely. Gerwald had briefly crossed paths with another of a similar kind, though any chance to learn about the Zambrano child had been short changed by the brash actions of Darth Strosius. It was one of a few occasions which showed the former Lord Commander he had yet to command the respect others held.

Perhaps this one could help change that.

“You tempt the wolf with this setting,” Gerwald said as he stepped into the light.

There was no doubt if the other held similar genetics that Gerwald’s presence was known long before he came into view. They could smell the shift of scent in the air. The way the grass cried as heavy steps flattened it did not carry the same sound as the rustling of the wind though the delicate blades.

The wolf let his eyes settle on the man in front of him.

“Was that the intent?”

 

[Darth Garoul]

Sarlow's gaze remained transfixed on the dancing flames, the fire crackling in the still night air. His voice, low and gravelly, echoed like stone grinding against stone. "Only a wolf would see such temptations," he murmured. Fields and forests where they might roam free. The haunted look in his eyes deepened as he shifted his attention away from the fire.

A subtle shift in the air carried a familiar scent. Sarlow was almost certain now; Lechner was, in some way, like him. "I have not found another like myself," he implied as he threw off his cape, letting it fall softly onto the grass. He stepped around the fire, his eyes never leaving Lechner. "Even now, I do not believe you and I are quite the same."

"Tell me, how did you come to be?" Sarlow inquired, his tone a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. He had lived with his curse for over seven decades, long since embracing it. "I understand it is quite bold of me to ask, but I am curious." Were there others in the galaxy who shared this fate? The galaxy was vast and diverse, its secrets beyond even the grasp of the All-Father.

Gerwald Lechner ​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
TAG: Darth Garoul

So this one was curious about origin. Gerwald weighed the options of telling him the exact truth or a more palatable version of it. He did not know this particular son of Carnifex with any level of familiarity. They had never exchanged words until this moment at the campfire. What would be gained by half truths? There was much about his own species origins the wolf did not fully understand, but he knew enough to give the beast across from him an answer.

“I was born as I was, but I cannot say the same for my species.”

It was a closely guarded secret, the truth. Gerwald had not shared his discovery with any of the other Lupo. Naedira knew, but she was not Lupo, not in the sense Gerwald was. She was something different, something else entirely. What she was still was not fully known to him, but the wolf did not care about the finer details of what had become of his mate. They would not change the love he had for her.

His devotion to her had been tested by far greater things, and it was never something that could be questioned.

“Sith Alchemy, millennia ago. There are details I can spare you, but needless to say our creator never anticipated we would evolve into what we have become. Technically, we were a failed experiment. By the time the Sith realized his mistake, it was too late.”

A smirk pulled at Gerwald’s lips.

“According to my ancestor’s journals, we killed him.”

His eyes fell to the fire. How long had it been since the wolf had shed the facade of his Sith mantle to be nothing more than the Wolf of Stewjon. He took in a deep breath and sat in the grass. Looking up to Sarlow he motioned for the young man to do the same.

“You’re curious, why?”

 

[Darth Garoul]

Sarlow spoke, his voice laced with a bitter reflection. "I wondered if there were others who had been cursed," he paused, a moment of hesitation before continuing, "like I was." He explained, "I did not have the luxury of millennia to understand it. I was an arrogant young man when the beast was thrust upon me."

The weight of decades spent grappling with his affliction hung heavy in his words. Sarlow held no smirk, for death was death, no matter how it arrived.

He looked up at the stars, searching for guidance that would not come. If they held any wisdom, it was lost to him. His gaze then fell upon the wolf before him. "I have wandered this galaxy, never encountering another like myself in any form," he confessed, the moon casting a ghostly light at his back. "So yes, I was curious."

His voice softened, shadowed by a deeper concern. "Perhaps more so for my daughter's sake—if this curse would pass to her." The word hung in the air, unspoken yet palpable. "If she too would have to fight the battle between the monster and the man." Sarlow, the Wolf Prince, lamented with a sorrow that ran as deep as his curse.

Gerwald Lechner ​

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

WEARING: xxx
WEAPONS: Ferrum Solus | Blodmåne | Strømafbryder
TAG: Darth Garoul

“Cursed?”

The response came with a tone of surprise. Did this one find what he was a weakness, or was he the outcome of something other than genetic manipulation? Gerwald had been born as he was, though this Zambrano spoke as though he had not been. It made him curious now.

“You were not born into this?”

The question settled into the air. It was not concern for himself, but rather his daughter. That was only something time would tell. They both were wolves, but Gerwald and Sarlow were not the same thing. That much was clear.

He smiled at the question.

“My species is as it is. We are one in the same. I am not a man with a wolf, and I am not a wolf that becomes a man. I am both at once.”

Gerwald sat to enjoy the warmth of the fire.

“What do you mean the beast was thrust upon you when you were young? Does that mean you did not come by this naturally?”

 

[Darth Garoul]

"Cursed," Sarlow echoed, his voice carrying a weight that matched the somber look in his eyes. He glanced over at Gerwald with a pitiful expression, his lips forming a bitter, melancholic, "no."

Lifting his head, Sarlow met Gerwald's gaze, the firelight casting shadows across his face. "I was cursed," he repeated, his voice softer, more reflective. "A witch bestowed this form upon me. I understand there are many jokes about my father, and yes, some of them hold a grain of truth," he added with a hollow chuckle. "But this... this is not one of them."

He paused, his thoughts drifting back to a time long buried. "I was an arrogant, selfish young man. I spurned that witch, and she cursed me to be as ugly on the outside as I was within—a beast." His words held a quiet bitterness as he explained, taking a seat opposite Gerwald, the fire crackling between them. "I was no more than nineteen when I... became the beast."

Sarlow's eyes flickered with curiosity as Gerwald spoke of being both man and beast. "It intrigues me that you describe yourself as both," he admitted, his voice barely more than a murmur. "I... I've never proclaimed myself to be the beast outside of private moments like this." There was a pause, a hesitation, as if he was unsure whether to continue. "Perhaps that's part of the shame I've carried... the shame of hiding this creature, burying him deep within. For so long, I've been ashamed of him, of what I've become."

Gerwald Lechner ​