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1
Blood stained the grass of a once peaceful meadow. Dead corpses laid unmoving on the tainted earth as war cries were still heard. Hares, otters, squirrels, rats, weasels and other beasts fought paw to paw, weapon to weapon, and the lives were dwindling down by the hour. It was a bloody war between vermin and goodbeasts that would settle all, but only for a short time.
"Give 'em blood and vinegar, chaps! Eulaliiiiiaaaa!" A stout hare called out. She fought with some other's beast's dagger, and lashed out her long powerful footpaw to strike a foebeast squarely in the chest. While doing so, the beast she fought paw to paw with slipped underneath their flying paws and took a quick lash at the young hare's unprotected belly.
She let out a bloodcurdling scream of fury as she slit the throat of the vermin. She quickly wrapped her tunic tighter around herself, hoping her blood loss would be little. She kept on going, finally standing back to back with another hare.
"How many ye' get down, brother?" She asked as she took the ax of a rat and snapped it in two, sending the beast sprawling backward.
"Over a score, I'd say, Lil!" The male hare tossed his head forward, his ringed ears flailing as his hard noggin thrashed against a foebeasts', slaying it instantly. "Look yonder Lil!" He said suddenly, nearly dropping his weapon. "Over there, on the top of the hill! It's the Hell beast and his brood!"
The large and fearless hare leapt away from his sister and charged, with a small pack of vermin trailing behind him closely.
Lilly gave a tremendous leap, trying to see the scene that was happening yards away. For a moment, nearly four rats overtook her, but a fellow ally came to her rescue.
"Well, well, Lilly. Looks like yew need to keep a close eye on wots happ'nin, eh?" A brawny otter chuckled, then went back to fighting.
On the hill, where hardly any commotion was going on, a large wolf stood, leaning on a stump. Only four stood beside him, and nothing else. Except for one who was running head long at them all.
It was a great sized beast, and it was definitely no hare.
"Stand firm, and you shall see how to slay a badger lord!" A great booming voice cried out, pointing to the beast running at them.
Suddenly, all noise and commotion stopped. The only sound was the hard breathing of a badger, and the drawing of a blade.
"Sea scum!" The badger cried out. "You'll pay for the lives you and your vermin have taken since the day I laid my blood red eyes upon you!"
The badger lord hastily drew a large battle ax, that was double sided, and wielded it with perfection. He swung twice, but he was not accurate enough.
The wolf was fast, and quick on his paws. He darted in between the hefty blows the badger sent out and hacked with the rapier he held within his paws. Nay, the dagger was not his normal weapon, but for a battle with a beast such as this, he would be much too clumsy with a longer blade.
The two beasts stood eye to eye as they paused for a split second, and only one of them had shed blood. The badger lord seemed frozen, as if in shock, and then he roared with anger and blood wrath.
He swung his ax with awesome power, and the rats that fled towards him and on his back were thrown off by his anger. He charged at the wolf, bringing his bloodlust filled blows closer and closer.
But the wolf knew no panic. He dodged them with precise agility, and was able to dart behind his opponent, and swing up upon it's back just quick enough to bury his rapier into the soft backing of the large badger's neck. He laughed without mercy and tightened his grip around the dagger. He whispered into the badger's small ear maliciously.
"Time for pay back, old friend," The sadistic wolf cackled. "You banned me from this land and nearly sent me to the Dark Forest! But nay, I came back from its burning doors like always, the Hell beast! And here I am to send you where you belong!"
Warm sticky blood covered his paw as he tried to thrust it further, but the badger shook with anger, rage, shock, and pain. It roared loudly and flung the wolf from his back, swiping furiously at the back of his neck. Weariness overtook him, but his war cries still remained.
"Vermin, Scum! Return again and I shall slay you! I will show no mercy next time for neither you nor your brood! Stay from these shores unless you want to face your death!"
But the wolf could not hear him. He was already unconscious, for when the great badger had relieved him from his back, the large wolf had fallen upon his own blade, thrusting it into his own side.
In an instant, hares and other beasts had swarmed their badger lord, hastily dragging him into retreat.
Just as well, the rats were carrying their own leader to their camps, which were a long distance from the battlefield.
The last thing the badger lord saw after his blood wrath cleared, was the sight of the near slain Hell beast, being carried away by his horde.
___.-~-.___
"Do you suppose he'll awaken?"
"Nay, I think not. That dagger of his was in his side for quite a while."
"The stupid beast who finally took it out... heh, I wonder how long 'twill be until his heart stops."
"Don't talk of such things around his mightiness. If he hears that from yore mouth, 'twill be a sorry sight."
Voices. He heard four voices all around him. Slowly, he was able to identify them, and his raspy throat was able to pursue their rightful owners.
"Kartek, Jakul, Vasrul, and Moroko... my children... what has become of me? Am I at the Dark Forest's gates?"
The last voice, Moroko, answered. "Nay father, you shall live many more seasons. The wound you cast upon yourself was not great, and the dagger was not left in yore side for long."
The large, injured male wolf opened his crusted eyes, finding his brood standing in the corners of the small tent where he rested.
"I didn't think so." He said hastily. "'Twill take more 'n a dagger to slay Marakul Deathfang, the Hell beast!"
Two of the wolves, Jakul and Vasrul, sniggered silently at their father and left the tent, probably heading to the lower ranking tents to pass around gossip.
The other two that remained, bowed respectively, and almost left until the old wolf croaked out to them. "Stay! I need a word with the two of ye'."
Kartek and Moroko passed a glance, and stood straight, walking to the edge of the elder wolf's resting place. "Yes, your highness?" They're voices droned like slaves.
Marakul opened his eyes and peered up at the two. "Lissen, I don't trust yore brother and sister." He whispered, a frown on his muzzle. "Keep a watch on the two, will ye'?"
They nodded mutely, bowing, and left the tent. Neither Moroko or Kartek had taken much notice of what their father had told them, because he often had ideas such as thus.
Many called him crazy and deranged, but he was still a powerful leader and no beast could doubt his word.
Moroko and Kartek silently walked, waiting to hear the laughter and sniggering of their siblings, which they finally recognized coming from a crowd of trident rats. The two joined into the back of all of them, and gazed silently upon what the two wolves were doing.
Vasrul, the female, was laughing and holding something up so that all of them could see. Her broad, male-like voice broke out as she explained.
"Look at 'er mates! 'Ave yew ever seen a blade like 'er? Pshaw! Not even our bloke of a leader has 'un this! I bet it was the very sword that one 'are was wieldin! Yew seen 'im, remember, Snoggtail?" She addressed a burly gray rat, whose arm was slung in an old tunic.
"Aye," The rat answered, blinking nervously. "Nearly chopped me arm off too! A big 'un, 'E wos! His fur wos blacker 'an 'ny rabbit yew ever seen! That looks loik 'is very blade too, yore 'ighness!"
Kartek sharply looked at Moroko, and their eyes both held wonder. Why would any of these lowly beasts call their sister highness?
Jakul shoved Vasrul out of the way and reached for the sword. "Aye, you oaf! Lemme' see that!" He turned it over in his hands, gazing at it from hilt to blade tip.
The hilt was silver, not pure because it would bend quite easy, but made from some strong type of silver, and three jewels were in its hilt. The handle gripping was made of tight sewn fur, the color of midnight black. It was very soft to the touch, but when you took it into your paw it seemed to stick to the rough fur. The blade at the beginning, where it was inset and spouted from the hilt, was wrapped in a dark stone that was set around it. The blade itself was a treasure that not even Lord Deathfang had ever laid his eyes upon. It seemed unreal... like it was pure. It could have melted away if it touched water, but it didn't.
Jakul finally spoke, tossing it and catching it by the blade's end, nearly cutting himself. "I 'ave no clue how that big black rabbit got ahold of a beauty like this 'un! Vasrul! I'm keepin' this blade for me'self, you blaggard! A female don't 'ave no use ter carry a weapon like this 'un!"
A murmur flew through the rats as they gazed upon Vasrul and Jakul. Vasrul finally spoke.
"Nay, a dumb beast like yoreself doesn't deserve it, iffn' I can't 'ave 'er! I'm just as equal as yew, Jakul! An' I know how yore twisted mind thinks!"
Jakul grinned at his sister and laughed, pushing his way towards her. "Aye, you know me inside out, do ye? Well don' fergit who's the brains of all of this. Someday you'll be thankin' me fer the food in yer belly, sister."
This seemed to set the gray wolf off. Her teeth glistened as she darted forward, paws outstretched. The gleaming claws were sharp and unclipped, and they were long and deadly as any weapon. She snarled as they dug furiously into the skull of a rat, who Jakul had place in front of his own.
Vasrul howled angrily and stalked off, licking the blood from her paws. She swore and called behind her, stomping away.
The band of rats was unusually quiet as the female wolf stalked off. Jakul ended the silence as he tossed the slain rat to the ground.
"Well now! Isn't some beast going to clean up this mess! 'Urry now before I get angry!"
The many rats scampered, leaving a few to pick up and discard the fallen form. They didn't speak as they went about their business, and kept their eyes to the ground as they hurriedly did their work.
Jakul didn't wait for the job to be finished, and stalked off after his angered sibling, just after shooting deadly glares at Moroko and Kartek.
After the scene was over, Kartek led Moroko to his own tent, inviting her to take a seat. He filled two silver goblets with a cordial of some sort and handed one of them to his sister, and called for food. A moment later, a small female weasel came into the tent and set down a platter of fowl and fruit. Kartek waved her away and invited Moroko to eat.
The female wolf picked up a bruised pear and nibbled upon it as Kartek spoke. "Quite a scene, eh? I haven't seen ol' Vasrul get that angry since I slew her ol' rat buddy... wot was 'is name... Mekro? Matro? Something like that... but wot do yew expect she'll do now? Yew know 'ow vain and pridefilled she is... mock my word, Vasrul won't give up that purty blade without a fight."
Moroko nodded silently, her pale green eyes large and clouded.
Kartek leaned closer, waving a paw in front of Moroko's face. "'Ello, Moro! Anybeast in there alive?"
Moroko gasped inwardly as she set her half eaten pear down. "Forgive me, Kar... I seemed to 'ave a day dream of some sort... yes, yes... I'm all right now...." Her voice mistily trailed off as she took a large sip from her goblet, then wiping her mouth hastily on her tunic sleeve.
"I do believe Vasrul and Jakul are out to slay us all, Kartek." She said quietly, staring hard at her brother. "Those two are a kind I'ont want to reckon with. They've got pure evil inside o' 'em, Kar. They're not like us and 'is 'ighness... they're beyond wot we are... they're mad, Kar! Mad!"
Kartek chuckled, ripping off a wing of the roasted bird that lay before them. "Mad, dear sister? I think we're all a bit sadistic, and insane... you know how are father is. But really, how do you know they just aren't driven by their need for power?"
Moroko shook her head, pushing away her goblet and pear. "You don't 'nerstand, brother! They are driven by their need for po'er! They crave it and that's wot drives them mad! They'll do anything for po'er! Even slay their own father, their own leader and lord! Ye' don't understand, Kar!"
Kartek stared at her for a moment, and sighed. He was confused, yes, but there was also logic in Moroko's beliefs. He too noticed that Vasrul and Jakul had very little affection and respect for their father, Marakul Deathfang. But how could Moroko sense this so strongly?
"Dear Moro, how do you know this for sure? If it is true, Vasrul and Jakul could slay us all and take the horde for themselves! Do you know how serious this presumption is? If we are wrong, we can be killed for our disloyalties to our lord and his brood! D'yew want that ter 'appen? Do ye'?"
Moroko shook her head and got up, shoving the platter away from herself. "Nay, I don't want to be slain. But I do know wot I've seen, and I don't like all of it." She paused for a second, reaching for her brother's brown paw and taking it into her white, slightly smaller one.
"Brother, you must realize... we are not naturally of violent nature. We are not foxes nor weasel nor corsair! I remember our mother-"
"Our mother?" Kartek asked in disbelief. "Our mother was slain when we were no more 'n babes!"
Moroko gave her brother a hard look and continued. "I remember when our mother told us a tale of a great wolf living in a place where peace and happy creatures dwelled. That wolf was our great grandfather, Kar! Our mother wasn' a murderin' war leader like our father, Kar! We kin be good! I see it every day when I daydream! I know we kin be like our mother an-"
Kartek gripped his sister's paw tighter, making her silence herself. "Moroko, I know a seer when I see one, an' I know you're a seer, sister. Iffn' yew can remember wot 'r ould mother used to tell us when we were babes, then I know you're a seer. You have visions, but they are untrue, well... partly. We'll never be beasts of calm an' tra'kility, Moro... we've drank the blood 'o our en'mies an' we've slain too many. I know the feeling, sister, wen yew want ter lay down yer blade and live like gentlebeasts, but we can't.
"I think tha's mebbe why you 'n me are so faithful to our ould father, because we're loyal, an' I think we're more like our mother, 'n our father. I kin 'member when Lord Deathfang would tell us that our mum was a real purty beast, her fur white as a seabeast's tusks, and blue eyes brighter 'n the sky! I 'member he told us'ns about 'er once in a while... when our ol' backs were sore frum fightin' and trainin', and I knew then an' there that our ol' father has that feelin' too once in a while.
"But we can't, Moro, we can't. We're murderers, Moroko, murderers! We slay gentlebeasts for laughter, an' its our way 'o life."
Moroko silently gazed upon her brother, for one of the first times, studying him. He was big and brawny, not quite as big as Vasrul, who was the biggest of Deathfang's brood, but much bigger than Moroko and Jakul. His fur was the color of rusted earth, and underneath it was a soft, rabbit- like fur that was the color of hardened lava, darker than midnight. His eyes were just like Lord Deathfang's... sharp and narrow, golden honey colored, with tints of rust and canary yellow. He was lanky, like Jakul, but his chest was large and muscular, like his hind legs. Under the cloak he wore, the tip of his tail showed, which was the same, rusty metallic hue as his eyes.
Never once had Moroko really gazed at her brother, and studied his characteristics. She had always just taken him as her father's son or her brother or her ally. She didn't know what she looked like, or what he was thinking as he looked at her, but she really didn't care.
Moroko released Kartek's paw and turned on her footpaw and held the flap open, looking back to bid him good night. "See you in the morn, Kar."
Kartek nodded, then suddenly slung his cloak off of his brown fur. "Here," He said, tossing it to Moroko. "Its cold tonight, and father may need warmth...." His voice drifted off.
Moroko knew he meant that she might check on their father once more before the night was over, to make sure that their untrustworthy siblings hadn't played any trickery during Lord Deathfang's slumber.
Moroko nodded and left, the bitter wind stinging in her eyes. It must be close to winter... She thought as she journeyed to the tent where Lord Rawnblade rested. All of leaves have fallen from the trees... and I'm sure snow shall fall soon.
Just as she was about to reach the tent, something swept up behind her, and bound her arms to her back. Rage filled her as she felt claws ripping at her paws and limbs, and she smelled blood when she drew them near.
Moroko snarled with anger as she flung herself in a curve forward, tossing whatever it was that had tried to immobile her, over her back and onto the ground.
She reacted as she normally would have, and drew her mace from her tunic belt. She stepped a few paces back, and gave the weapon a few light testing swings. "Aye, not so tough now that I've tossed ye', eh?"
The creature was shrouded in a cloak that was now tangling the beast up. It struggled for a moment, then finally it emerged from the dark plum mass of cloth. "Oh I'm still tough an' ready, Hell scum!" The reviled beast cackled.
Moroko saw the beast to be an otter. It was an unusual otter, not like the large, skinny brown ones she had seen during the recent battle, but it was quite small and had some meat on it's bones. A tattoo ran all the way up it's leg, where the otter's paw rested, two short daggers in hand. It was a female, which surprised Moroko, who stepped a little further away. She knew all otters to be just as perilous as any hare, and they had a great distaste for vermin like herself.
Moroko grinned and gripped the mace tighter, licking her sharp fangs that gleamed in the fast rising moonlight. "Aye, wots this about a Hell beast, eh? Wolves are that frightening, are we?"
The otter laughed and knelt further to the ground, preparing to fight. "Not to ol' Sampal Freeblade! I know evil 'uns when I see 'em and yore no angel, wolf!"
Just before Moroko attack, she let out a bloodcurdling war cry that would wake the whole horde. "Deathfaaaaaannng!"
Swinging the mace high above her head she darted forward with all of the grace and agility she possessed. By now, many rats surrounded the two, and were chanting for their lord's daughter.
"Moroko! Moroko! C'mon, knock 'er teef oot, Moroko! Put yore jav'lin in 'er jaw!"
Pressed on by the chants of her horde, she grinned and after she had enough momentum in her paws, she let the mace fly halfway out of her paw and the weapon bury itself in the female otter's right shoulder.
The otter didn't scream, but she moaned slightly, grasping her arm with her left paw, dropping one of the daggers. "Darn yew, vermin! I thought I outran yew there, but yore a quick 'un!"
Moroko leapt over the otter, retrieving her mace that has bits of fur and flesh between its long spikes. It was not a normal mace, for the prongs on the outside of the metal head were made of a metal unknown to most beasts, and the long spikes were not fragile.
She swung it again over her head, beckoning the otter forward, who had taken up her daggers again.
Sampal complained. "This'n ain't fair, wolf! Yew've got a mace an' I gots two liddle daggers, matey! Git a real weapon an' we'll fight fairly, eh?"
The rats and weasels around the injured otter and the wolf booed and laughed, jeering at the otter.
Moroko smugly grinned. "Yew want a fair fight, do ye'? I bet yew think I can't beat yew without my old mai'ece, eh?"
Sampal nodded, wiping her daggers against the earth. "I think yore just an overgrown fox with a head the size of a badger!"
Moroko frowned, tossing her weapon hastily to the weasel who stood behind her. "A big head I've got, eh? We'll jus' see about that, streamdog!"
Sampal rushed forward, her daggers poised and ready to pierce. Just as she jutted her arms out, Moroko leaped to the side, her left foot paw dragging underneath the otters, heaving the brown beast down, and catching the daggers in her own paws. She laughed loudly as she placed her footpaw on the otters chest and drawing one of the daggers to Sampal's throat.
The otter grimaced, looking straight up into Moroko's eyes with a angered look on her face. Sampal was fairly young, but she had lived enough seasons and been in enough fights to know when she was finished.
"Yew out smarted meh, Wolf. I will admit that... yew outsmarted ol' Sampal. But let me go, ol' gal... I'ont mean yew and yore horde no 'arm...."
Suddenly, three more heads peered down at the otter. All wolves. Jakul, Vasrul, Moroko, and Kartek's eyes glittered with malice as they gazed down, laughing.
"Yew hear that?" Jakul asked. "She don't mean us no 'arm! Yew reckon we should let 'er go?" He asked playfully. Vasrul acted like she was completely confused. "Well, she really didn't do us no 'arm, did she?"
Kartek joined in, a sadistic grin upon his face as he touched Sampal's shoulder with his left paw, licking the blood as he grinned like a crazy feline. "Nay, she didn't. 'Cept the one rule we wolves carry with us where ever we go...."
All four wolves leaned in closer, so that their heads were touching and were five inches away from Sampal's nose as they chanted together.
"Eye for an eye, nose for a nose, we keep this rule where ever we go. Bring trouble to a wolf, challenge and mean to slay... you'll never leave the Hell beast's lair until yore debt is paid!"
The wolf siblings' sharp clawed paws reached out for the otter's body, hastily grabbing and ripping, not noticing the blood they shed and the flesh they tore. They dragged her, their claws deep within her body, mangling like a bobcat's, and tossed her against the hull of a worn, half dead tree.
Sampal was screaming in pain as they bound all four of her paws and tied her to the tree, and all the while their claws still ripped at her. She was beyond pain, beyond any spear she had felt. Finally she fainted at the sight of her own blood.
The four wolves were surrounded by the horde, but they all were bowing to the four, softly chanting the Hell beast verse.
After the whole deadly submission ceremony was performed and the horde had milled away, Jakul checked to make sure that the otter was out cold, and he unbound her from the tree, and tossed her to the ground. "Vasrul, tend to her wounds and 'rouse her later... tell her she's been up on that tree for... let's say a week, shall we?" His teeth shone brightly as he laughed maliciously. "Then tell her we took her down out of our unmerciful ways and believe me... she'll serve us thankfully, and she'll always fear! Fear that she'll feel the claws of Hell once more! Muaha! Ha hahaha haha hahahaha hahaha!"
His laughing rang out across the forest, and was heard everywhere... the four wolves cackled in pure evil delight, joined in later by their horde.
Many, many yards away, Marakul Deathfang listened to his children and the comments they stated.
"Vasrul... young Vasrul.... So powerful and leading... and Kartek, so full of life and greatness...." His voice drifted off as his thoughts did, and seconds later he was in a deep slumber. But his last murmur was of his smallest daughter, Moroko.
"Moro... I fear my legacy and power has not reached you... young child, full of rage and sorrow... I do believe yore one to betray me...."
1
Blood stained the grass of a once peaceful meadow. Dead corpses laid unmoving on the tainted earth as war cries were still heard. Hares, otters, squirrels, rats, weasels and other beasts fought paw to paw, weapon to weapon, and the lives were dwindling down by the hour. It was a bloody war between vermin and goodbeasts that would settle all, but only for a short time.
"Give 'em blood and vinegar, chaps! Eulaliiiiiaaaa!" A stout hare called out. She fought with some other's beast's dagger, and lashed out her long powerful footpaw to strike a foebeast squarely in the chest. While doing so, the beast she fought paw to paw with slipped underneath their flying paws and took a quick lash at the young hare's unprotected belly.
She let out a bloodcurdling scream of fury as she slit the throat of the vermin. She quickly wrapped her tunic tighter around herself, hoping her blood loss would be little. She kept on going, finally standing back to back with another hare.
"How many ye' get down, brother?" She asked as she took the ax of a rat and snapped it in two, sending the beast sprawling backward.
"Over a score, I'd say, Lil!" The male hare tossed his head forward, his ringed ears flailing as his hard noggin thrashed against a foebeasts', slaying it instantly. "Look yonder Lil!" He said suddenly, nearly dropping his weapon. "Over there, on the top of the hill! It's the Hell beast and his brood!"
The large and fearless hare leapt away from his sister and charged, with a small pack of vermin trailing behind him closely.
Lilly gave a tremendous leap, trying to see the scene that was happening yards away. For a moment, nearly four rats overtook her, but a fellow ally came to her rescue.
"Well, well, Lilly. Looks like yew need to keep a close eye on wots happ'nin, eh?" A brawny otter chuckled, then went back to fighting.
On the hill, where hardly any commotion was going on, a large wolf stood, leaning on a stump. Only four stood beside him, and nothing else. Except for one who was running head long at them all.
It was a great sized beast, and it was definitely no hare.
"Stand firm, and you shall see how to slay a badger lord!" A great booming voice cried out, pointing to the beast running at them.
Suddenly, all noise and commotion stopped. The only sound was the hard breathing of a badger, and the drawing of a blade.
"Sea scum!" The badger cried out. "You'll pay for the lives you and your vermin have taken since the day I laid my blood red eyes upon you!"
The badger lord hastily drew a large battle ax, that was double sided, and wielded it with perfection. He swung twice, but he was not accurate enough.
The wolf was fast, and quick on his paws. He darted in between the hefty blows the badger sent out and hacked with the rapier he held within his paws. Nay, the dagger was not his normal weapon, but for a battle with a beast such as this, he would be much too clumsy with a longer blade.
The two beasts stood eye to eye as they paused for a split second, and only one of them had shed blood. The badger lord seemed frozen, as if in shock, and then he roared with anger and blood wrath.
He swung his ax with awesome power, and the rats that fled towards him and on his back were thrown off by his anger. He charged at the wolf, bringing his bloodlust filled blows closer and closer.
But the wolf knew no panic. He dodged them with precise agility, and was able to dart behind his opponent, and swing up upon it's back just quick enough to bury his rapier into the soft backing of the large badger's neck. He laughed without mercy and tightened his grip around the dagger. He whispered into the badger's small ear maliciously.
"Time for pay back, old friend," The sadistic wolf cackled. "You banned me from this land and nearly sent me to the Dark Forest! But nay, I came back from its burning doors like always, the Hell beast! And here I am to send you where you belong!"
Warm sticky blood covered his paw as he tried to thrust it further, but the badger shook with anger, rage, shock, and pain. It roared loudly and flung the wolf from his back, swiping furiously at the back of his neck. Weariness overtook him, but his war cries still remained.
"Vermin, Scum! Return again and I shall slay you! I will show no mercy next time for neither you nor your brood! Stay from these shores unless you want to face your death!"
But the wolf could not hear him. He was already unconscious, for when the great badger had relieved him from his back, the large wolf had fallen upon his own blade, thrusting it into his own side.
In an instant, hares and other beasts had swarmed their badger lord, hastily dragging him into retreat.
Just as well, the rats were carrying their own leader to their camps, which were a long distance from the battlefield.
The last thing the badger lord saw after his blood wrath cleared, was the sight of the near slain Hell beast, being carried away by his horde.
___.-~-.___
"Do you suppose he'll awaken?"
"Nay, I think not. That dagger of his was in his side for quite a while."
"The stupid beast who finally took it out... heh, I wonder how long 'twill be until his heart stops."
"Don't talk of such things around his mightiness. If he hears that from yore mouth, 'twill be a sorry sight."
Voices. He heard four voices all around him. Slowly, he was able to identify them, and his raspy throat was able to pursue their rightful owners.
"Kartek, Jakul, Vasrul, and Moroko... my children... what has become of me? Am I at the Dark Forest's gates?"
The last voice, Moroko, answered. "Nay father, you shall live many more seasons. The wound you cast upon yourself was not great, and the dagger was not left in yore side for long."
The large, injured male wolf opened his crusted eyes, finding his brood standing in the corners of the small tent where he rested.
"I didn't think so." He said hastily. "'Twill take more 'n a dagger to slay Marakul Deathfang, the Hell beast!"
Two of the wolves, Jakul and Vasrul, sniggered silently at their father and left the tent, probably heading to the lower ranking tents to pass around gossip.
The other two that remained, bowed respectively, and almost left until the old wolf croaked out to them. "Stay! I need a word with the two of ye'."
Kartek and Moroko passed a glance, and stood straight, walking to the edge of the elder wolf's resting place. "Yes, your highness?" They're voices droned like slaves.
Marakul opened his eyes and peered up at the two. "Lissen, I don't trust yore brother and sister." He whispered, a frown on his muzzle. "Keep a watch on the two, will ye'?"
They nodded mutely, bowing, and left the tent. Neither Moroko or Kartek had taken much notice of what their father had told them, because he often had ideas such as thus.
Many called him crazy and deranged, but he was still a powerful leader and no beast could doubt his word.
Moroko and Kartek silently walked, waiting to hear the laughter and sniggering of their siblings, which they finally recognized coming from a crowd of trident rats. The two joined into the back of all of them, and gazed silently upon what the two wolves were doing.
Vasrul, the female, was laughing and holding something up so that all of them could see. Her broad, male-like voice broke out as she explained.
"Look at 'er mates! 'Ave yew ever seen a blade like 'er? Pshaw! Not even our bloke of a leader has 'un this! I bet it was the very sword that one 'are was wieldin! Yew seen 'im, remember, Snoggtail?" She addressed a burly gray rat, whose arm was slung in an old tunic.
"Aye," The rat answered, blinking nervously. "Nearly chopped me arm off too! A big 'un, 'E wos! His fur wos blacker 'an 'ny rabbit yew ever seen! That looks loik 'is very blade too, yore 'ighness!"
Kartek sharply looked at Moroko, and their eyes both held wonder. Why would any of these lowly beasts call their sister highness?
Jakul shoved Vasrul out of the way and reached for the sword. "Aye, you oaf! Lemme' see that!" He turned it over in his hands, gazing at it from hilt to blade tip.
The hilt was silver, not pure because it would bend quite easy, but made from some strong type of silver, and three jewels were in its hilt. The handle gripping was made of tight sewn fur, the color of midnight black. It was very soft to the touch, but when you took it into your paw it seemed to stick to the rough fur. The blade at the beginning, where it was inset and spouted from the hilt, was wrapped in a dark stone that was set around it. The blade itself was a treasure that not even Lord Deathfang had ever laid his eyes upon. It seemed unreal... like it was pure. It could have melted away if it touched water, but it didn't.
Jakul finally spoke, tossing it and catching it by the blade's end, nearly cutting himself. "I 'ave no clue how that big black rabbit got ahold of a beauty like this 'un! Vasrul! I'm keepin' this blade for me'self, you blaggard! A female don't 'ave no use ter carry a weapon like this 'un!"
A murmur flew through the rats as they gazed upon Vasrul and Jakul. Vasrul finally spoke.
"Nay, a dumb beast like yoreself doesn't deserve it, iffn' I can't 'ave 'er! I'm just as equal as yew, Jakul! An' I know how yore twisted mind thinks!"
Jakul grinned at his sister and laughed, pushing his way towards her. "Aye, you know me inside out, do ye? Well don' fergit who's the brains of all of this. Someday you'll be thankin' me fer the food in yer belly, sister."
This seemed to set the gray wolf off. Her teeth glistened as she darted forward, paws outstretched. The gleaming claws were sharp and unclipped, and they were long and deadly as any weapon. She snarled as they dug furiously into the skull of a rat, who Jakul had place in front of his own.
Vasrul howled angrily and stalked off, licking the blood from her paws. She swore and called behind her, stomping away.
The band of rats was unusually quiet as the female wolf stalked off. Jakul ended the silence as he tossed the slain rat to the ground.
"Well now! Isn't some beast going to clean up this mess! 'Urry now before I get angry!"
The many rats scampered, leaving a few to pick up and discard the fallen form. They didn't speak as they went about their business, and kept their eyes to the ground as they hurriedly did their work.
Jakul didn't wait for the job to be finished, and stalked off after his angered sibling, just after shooting deadly glares at Moroko and Kartek.
After the scene was over, Kartek led Moroko to his own tent, inviting her to take a seat. He filled two silver goblets with a cordial of some sort and handed one of them to his sister, and called for food. A moment later, a small female weasel came into the tent and set down a platter of fowl and fruit. Kartek waved her away and invited Moroko to eat.
The female wolf picked up a bruised pear and nibbled upon it as Kartek spoke. "Quite a scene, eh? I haven't seen ol' Vasrul get that angry since I slew her ol' rat buddy... wot was 'is name... Mekro? Matro? Something like that... but wot do yew expect she'll do now? Yew know 'ow vain and pridefilled she is... mock my word, Vasrul won't give up that purty blade without a fight."
Moroko nodded silently, her pale green eyes large and clouded.
Kartek leaned closer, waving a paw in front of Moroko's face. "'Ello, Moro! Anybeast in there alive?"
Moroko gasped inwardly as she set her half eaten pear down. "Forgive me, Kar... I seemed to 'ave a day dream of some sort... yes, yes... I'm all right now...." Her voice mistily trailed off as she took a large sip from her goblet, then wiping her mouth hastily on her tunic sleeve.
"I do believe Vasrul and Jakul are out to slay us all, Kartek." She said quietly, staring hard at her brother. "Those two are a kind I'ont want to reckon with. They've got pure evil inside o' 'em, Kar. They're not like us and 'is 'ighness... they're beyond wot we are... they're mad, Kar! Mad!"
Kartek chuckled, ripping off a wing of the roasted bird that lay before them. "Mad, dear sister? I think we're all a bit sadistic, and insane... you know how are father is. But really, how do you know they just aren't driven by their need for power?"
Moroko shook her head, pushing away her goblet and pear. "You don't 'nerstand, brother! They are driven by their need for po'er! They crave it and that's wot drives them mad! They'll do anything for po'er! Even slay their own father, their own leader and lord! Ye' don't understand, Kar!"
Kartek stared at her for a moment, and sighed. He was confused, yes, but there was also logic in Moroko's beliefs. He too noticed that Vasrul and Jakul had very little affection and respect for their father, Marakul Deathfang. But how could Moroko sense this so strongly?
"Dear Moro, how do you know this for sure? If it is true, Vasrul and Jakul could slay us all and take the horde for themselves! Do you know how serious this presumption is? If we are wrong, we can be killed for our disloyalties to our lord and his brood! D'yew want that ter 'appen? Do ye'?"
Moroko shook her head and got up, shoving the platter away from herself. "Nay, I don't want to be slain. But I do know wot I've seen, and I don't like all of it." She paused for a second, reaching for her brother's brown paw and taking it into her white, slightly smaller one.
"Brother, you must realize... we are not naturally of violent nature. We are not foxes nor weasel nor corsair! I remember our mother-"
"Our mother?" Kartek asked in disbelief. "Our mother was slain when we were no more 'n babes!"
Moroko gave her brother a hard look and continued. "I remember when our mother told us a tale of a great wolf living in a place where peace and happy creatures dwelled. That wolf was our great grandfather, Kar! Our mother wasn' a murderin' war leader like our father, Kar! We kin be good! I see it every day when I daydream! I know we kin be like our mother an-"
Kartek gripped his sister's paw tighter, making her silence herself. "Moroko, I know a seer when I see one, an' I know you're a seer, sister. Iffn' yew can remember wot 'r ould mother used to tell us when we were babes, then I know you're a seer. You have visions, but they are untrue, well... partly. We'll never be beasts of calm an' tra'kility, Moro... we've drank the blood 'o our en'mies an' we've slain too many. I know the feeling, sister, wen yew want ter lay down yer blade and live like gentlebeasts, but we can't.
"I think tha's mebbe why you 'n me are so faithful to our ould father, because we're loyal, an' I think we're more like our mother, 'n our father. I kin 'member when Lord Deathfang would tell us that our mum was a real purty beast, her fur white as a seabeast's tusks, and blue eyes brighter 'n the sky! I 'member he told us'ns about 'er once in a while... when our ol' backs were sore frum fightin' and trainin', and I knew then an' there that our ol' father has that feelin' too once in a while.
"But we can't, Moro, we can't. We're murderers, Moroko, murderers! We slay gentlebeasts for laughter, an' its our way 'o life."
Moroko silently gazed upon her brother, for one of the first times, studying him. He was big and brawny, not quite as big as Vasrul, who was the biggest of Deathfang's brood, but much bigger than Moroko and Jakul. His fur was the color of rusted earth, and underneath it was a soft, rabbit- like fur that was the color of hardened lava, darker than midnight. His eyes were just like Lord Deathfang's... sharp and narrow, golden honey colored, with tints of rust and canary yellow. He was lanky, like Jakul, but his chest was large and muscular, like his hind legs. Under the cloak he wore, the tip of his tail showed, which was the same, rusty metallic hue as his eyes.
Never once had Moroko really gazed at her brother, and studied his characteristics. She had always just taken him as her father's son or her brother or her ally. She didn't know what she looked like, or what he was thinking as he looked at her, but she really didn't care.
Moroko released Kartek's paw and turned on her footpaw and held the flap open, looking back to bid him good night. "See you in the morn, Kar."
Kartek nodded, then suddenly slung his cloak off of his brown fur. "Here," He said, tossing it to Moroko. "Its cold tonight, and father may need warmth...." His voice drifted off.
Moroko knew he meant that she might check on their father once more before the night was over, to make sure that their untrustworthy siblings hadn't played any trickery during Lord Deathfang's slumber.
Moroko nodded and left, the bitter wind stinging in her eyes. It must be close to winter... She thought as she journeyed to the tent where Lord Rawnblade rested. All of leaves have fallen from the trees... and I'm sure snow shall fall soon.
Just as she was about to reach the tent, something swept up behind her, and bound her arms to her back. Rage filled her as she felt claws ripping at her paws and limbs, and she smelled blood when she drew them near.
Moroko snarled with anger as she flung herself in a curve forward, tossing whatever it was that had tried to immobile her, over her back and onto the ground.
She reacted as she normally would have, and drew her mace from her tunic belt. She stepped a few paces back, and gave the weapon a few light testing swings. "Aye, not so tough now that I've tossed ye', eh?"
The creature was shrouded in a cloak that was now tangling the beast up. It struggled for a moment, then finally it emerged from the dark plum mass of cloth. "Oh I'm still tough an' ready, Hell scum!" The reviled beast cackled.
Moroko saw the beast to be an otter. It was an unusual otter, not like the large, skinny brown ones she had seen during the recent battle, but it was quite small and had some meat on it's bones. A tattoo ran all the way up it's leg, where the otter's paw rested, two short daggers in hand. It was a female, which surprised Moroko, who stepped a little further away. She knew all otters to be just as perilous as any hare, and they had a great distaste for vermin like herself.
Moroko grinned and gripped the mace tighter, licking her sharp fangs that gleamed in the fast rising moonlight. "Aye, wots this about a Hell beast, eh? Wolves are that frightening, are we?"
The otter laughed and knelt further to the ground, preparing to fight. "Not to ol' Sampal Freeblade! I know evil 'uns when I see 'em and yore no angel, wolf!"
Just before Moroko attack, she let out a bloodcurdling war cry that would wake the whole horde. "Deathfaaaaaannng!"
Swinging the mace high above her head she darted forward with all of the grace and agility she possessed. By now, many rats surrounded the two, and were chanting for their lord's daughter.
"Moroko! Moroko! C'mon, knock 'er teef oot, Moroko! Put yore jav'lin in 'er jaw!"
Pressed on by the chants of her horde, she grinned and after she had enough momentum in her paws, she let the mace fly halfway out of her paw and the weapon bury itself in the female otter's right shoulder.
The otter didn't scream, but she moaned slightly, grasping her arm with her left paw, dropping one of the daggers. "Darn yew, vermin! I thought I outran yew there, but yore a quick 'un!"
Moroko leapt over the otter, retrieving her mace that has bits of fur and flesh between its long spikes. It was not a normal mace, for the prongs on the outside of the metal head were made of a metal unknown to most beasts, and the long spikes were not fragile.
She swung it again over her head, beckoning the otter forward, who had taken up her daggers again.
Sampal complained. "This'n ain't fair, wolf! Yew've got a mace an' I gots two liddle daggers, matey! Git a real weapon an' we'll fight fairly, eh?"
The rats and weasels around the injured otter and the wolf booed and laughed, jeering at the otter.
Moroko smugly grinned. "Yew want a fair fight, do ye'? I bet yew think I can't beat yew without my old mai'ece, eh?"
Sampal nodded, wiping her daggers against the earth. "I think yore just an overgrown fox with a head the size of a badger!"
Moroko frowned, tossing her weapon hastily to the weasel who stood behind her. "A big head I've got, eh? We'll jus' see about that, streamdog!"
Sampal rushed forward, her daggers poised and ready to pierce. Just as she jutted her arms out, Moroko leaped to the side, her left foot paw dragging underneath the otters, heaving the brown beast down, and catching the daggers in her own paws. She laughed loudly as she placed her footpaw on the otters chest and drawing one of the daggers to Sampal's throat.
The otter grimaced, looking straight up into Moroko's eyes with a angered look on her face. Sampal was fairly young, but she had lived enough seasons and been in enough fights to know when she was finished.
"Yew out smarted meh, Wolf. I will admit that... yew outsmarted ol' Sampal. But let me go, ol' gal... I'ont mean yew and yore horde no 'arm...."
Suddenly, three more heads peered down at the otter. All wolves. Jakul, Vasrul, Moroko, and Kartek's eyes glittered with malice as they gazed down, laughing.
"Yew hear that?" Jakul asked. "She don't mean us no 'arm! Yew reckon we should let 'er go?" He asked playfully. Vasrul acted like she was completely confused. "Well, she really didn't do us no 'arm, did she?"
Kartek joined in, a sadistic grin upon his face as he touched Sampal's shoulder with his left paw, licking the blood as he grinned like a crazy feline. "Nay, she didn't. 'Cept the one rule we wolves carry with us where ever we go...."
All four wolves leaned in closer, so that their heads were touching and were five inches away from Sampal's nose as they chanted together.
"Eye for an eye, nose for a nose, we keep this rule where ever we go. Bring trouble to a wolf, challenge and mean to slay... you'll never leave the Hell beast's lair until yore debt is paid!"
The wolf siblings' sharp clawed paws reached out for the otter's body, hastily grabbing and ripping, not noticing the blood they shed and the flesh they tore. They dragged her, their claws deep within her body, mangling like a bobcat's, and tossed her against the hull of a worn, half dead tree.
Sampal was screaming in pain as they bound all four of her paws and tied her to the tree, and all the while their claws still ripped at her. She was beyond pain, beyond any spear she had felt. Finally she fainted at the sight of her own blood.
The four wolves were surrounded by the horde, but they all were bowing to the four, softly chanting the Hell beast verse.
After the whole deadly submission ceremony was performed and the horde had milled away, Jakul checked to make sure that the otter was out cold, and he unbound her from the tree, and tossed her to the ground. "Vasrul, tend to her wounds and 'rouse her later... tell her she's been up on that tree for... let's say a week, shall we?" His teeth shone brightly as he laughed maliciously. "Then tell her we took her down out of our unmerciful ways and believe me... she'll serve us thankfully, and she'll always fear! Fear that she'll feel the claws of Hell once more! Muaha! Ha hahaha haha hahahaha hahaha!"
His laughing rang out across the forest, and was heard everywhere... the four wolves cackled in pure evil delight, joined in later by their horde.
Many, many yards away, Marakul Deathfang listened to his children and the comments they stated.
"Vasrul... young Vasrul.... So powerful and leading... and Kartek, so full of life and greatness...." His voice drifted off as his thoughts did, and seconds later he was in a deep slumber. But his last murmur was of his smallest daughter, Moroko.
"Moro... I fear my legacy and power has not reached you... young child, full of rage and sorrow... I do believe yore one to betray me...."