Originally Submitted to FurAffinity.net on Oct 28th, 2016 01:04 AM. Before it was transferred to Inkbunny it had 651 views and 83 favorites.
Rhonin began his training at only a few days old, the young fawn learning all the essentials of survival from his father, the herd leader. What berries and grass were safe to eat, what areas of the land to stay away from, how to sense for danger, Rhonin learned all these lessons and more!
Then came the combat training. Rhonin was beginning to think his father was crazy, especially when he would math the young buck up against males three times his size! His puny spike horn was no match for an eight pointer! What he lacked in offense though, he made up in defense. The young buck was fast.. very fast, easily having the ability to dodge the attacks toward him until his opponent simply passed out in exhaustion of trying to hit him.
Of course, once Rhonin was equipped with a more substantial set of antlers, the real combat began. Within a year, the young 6-pointer didnt have much difficulty in taking down his pre-arranged combat partners, and it was soon evident that Rhonin was growing increasingly powerful.
Over time, Rhonin's father became resentful. His son was starting to become a threat to him and his status, especially when the does of his herd started to take notice. As the weeks passed by, it wouldnt be uncommon to hear the sweet cries of pleasure coming from Rhonin's choice of female for the night. It seemed his popularity had gained him some secondary skills as well, namely how to take care of certain primal instincts with the all too eager females of his fathers herd.
Slowly, his father was driven mad. Concerned for his title amongst his herd and his fear of losing his females, the massive buck launched an all-out attack against his own son. The attack itself came in the form of an ambush against the young buck while he was out exploring the nearby woods. At least twenty males had joined with the herd leader, all of them attacking at once. Rhonin had no idea what was happening, but he knew he had to survive.
Their attacks were relentless. Biting, scratching, kicking with their rock-hard hooves and even stabbing him with their lethal antlers. Slowly, though, Rhonin began to fight back, slowly taking out each attacker one by one. Before too long, the adolescent buck was coated in both his blood, and the blood of the 20 stags he had gutted in defense. All that stood now was his father.
The battle was grueling. Hooves clopped, antlers collided, sending out loud cracks that sounded like lightning cascading through the forest. His father had trained him too well, though, and without warning, Rhonin had taken the opportunity of a poorly executed uppercut to plunge his razor sharp antlers into his fathers chest.
It took a moment to register what had happened as the massive buck pulled away, thick, dark crimson blood now gushing profuesly from the 6 large holes that dotted his chest. His father stubled weakly, staining the grass and flowers in his thick blood, and withing moments, the buck's body met the Earth.
The buck was wheezing, struggling for life. He turned his head, seeing his son standing over him a fire in his eyes. The buck stared into those eyes, the very son he had created had overthrown him. He gasped softly, and with his dying breath, he spoke...
"You were never fit to rule."
Rhonin only snorted in disgust, glaring daggers down at the mortally wounded buck. "I am now" he replied. His voice was smooth and stern "Goodbye, Father.."
And with that, he watched his father die, snorting in disapproval at the monster he had become before trotting back to his herd, ready to take his fathers place.