Finally! Welcome to my fanfic-epic. Expect many OCs, the return of some old favorites, and much psychotic fun! Or not. :E The first draft of this story is like 113 pages long in Word, and the second draft is getting even longer. I have trouble writing short stories.

This is a slightly AU fic, but I have tried to otherwise stay true to the original setting and character personalities. It is set about six years after the Second Dragon Campaign.

Um...oh yeah, the wolf character belongs to my sister, and is used with her permission (I think... XD).

So...thanks to the people who offered to read the first draft for me. Sorry the first chapter is a bit short, butI hope you enjoy it!

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And this was so close to being an uneventful trip, too. Coen slowly trudged through the forest. Six months of nothing, or almost nothing--there had been a few incidents of the rogue Sandorans appearing, but they had left again without disturbing the people. And here, the day before leaving for Bale, trouble. Supplies had been disappearing from the town for a while, although it was only recently that the knights themselves reported being bothered by the mysterious thief. And since Coen had nothing better to do this particular evening, he had decided to put a stop to the nonsense.

Thieves caused trouble from time to time in the western forests of Serdio, although they could generally be scared away by town guards. This individual, though, was not even afraid of the king's knights, making off with whole day packs that included not only food, but medicines, equipment to make minor repairs to clothing and armor, and sometimes weapons, or even dangerous substances such as the highly combustible mixes of magic and chemistry. Things dangerous and unpredictable enough even in the hands of someone trained to use them.

Coen frowned to himself. He would not like having to explain a village damaged by a burnout or black rain. That would do nothing to help me...

He froze when he stood. Just ahead, he could hear something moving around on the forest floor. A soft clink of vials rolling into each other sounded through the trees. Coen winced, half-expecting his life to end right then in a burst of white-hot flames. But the glasses did not break. Carefully, he shifted forward for a better look.

So this is the thief, huh?

A rust-furred wolf was pushing around one of the missing day packs, its face buried inside as it tried to dig out something down near the bottom. A trail of scattered items covered the ground.

Well thanks for giving me a clean-up job, too. Coen narrowed his eyes, his right hand gripping his sword's hilt tightly, slowly pulling it free of its sheath.

The wolf's head shot up, pointed ears turning this way and that. Coen paused, sword half-free. He had never fought a wolf before; the creatures tended to keep to themselves. But he would kill the beast if that would stop the disappearance of the town's--and the knights'--supplies.

The wolf knew something was happening. It was still looking around, listening for trouble, holding its long tail in a stiff curl as it concentrated.

Coen shifted his weight slightly, trying to ease muscles that twinged as he tried to hold his position.

Something beneath his boot cracked.

Immediately the wolf turned its attention to him, its pale purple eyes boring into him.

Damn it, now I get too work twice as hard...

The animal was off like an arrow, dodging trees and leaping over underbrush as it bolted for safety, its stolen prize forgotten. Coen leapt forward, attempting to slice the wolf's hind legs with the tip of his sword. His reach was not enough to make up for the distance the wolf had already covered. The knight shifted his sword, turning it so it pointed backwards to balance himself as he chased after the wolf. He could catch glimpses of the reddish fur as they raced through the forest, but the noisy escape the wolf made was easier to follow.

Rushing up a bare slope, the wolf made a scrambling dive for the safety of a hole in the ground beneath the thick underbrush at the top. For a moment, Coen thought he would lose the beast for sure...but then it stopped, head, neck, and one leg in the hole, the rest of its body exposed. The escape route was too small for the wolf. It was stuck. Frantically the wolf's paws scrabbled at the ground, trying to back out of the hole, but to no avail.

Coen smirked slightly to himself, swinging his sword forward again as he hurried up the slope to meet the creature. Thought you were too smart for me, huh?

The wolf struggled, letting out a piercing whine that echoed around the forest.

I have you.

He had no warning. A roar from beyond the wolf thundered through the air, and then a golden creature was sailing from the top of the hill, in a pounce intended to connection with the knight. The next thing Coen remembered was a sharp pain in the back of his head, and the sensation of flipping over a few times. Then he realized he was at the bottom of the hill, laying on his back. Sharp claws dug into the light leather armor that covered his chest, pressing him into the ground. The hot breath of a snarling animal hit his face. For a brief moment he forced himself to open his eyes...and found himself staring up into a set of toothy jaws with knife-like fangs opened to engulf his head.