FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The dark, deep depths of space, cold and silent stretched endlessly on, an ocean with no end. While the stars that littered the infinite horizon made for a sight to behold to the venturous spirit, the crew aboard the _Grimsbane _knew no such wonder. The battle cruiser plunged forward through the drift with afterburners set to minimal force. Those aboard were lupine in appearance, standing at an average of height between five to six feet tall, most of a brawn physique of muscled torsos and lean forms. Most bore dark outlines and markings of tribal origin about their eyes and face. At one time, the armored suits they wore shined with fresh polish and pristine glimmer. Even those that were technicians had once sported sleek and well tailored jumpsuits with lightweight armored vests. Yet now, the wolves roamed the halls, performing tasks and routines that had become mundane and worthless. None could recount the last time the force had encountered combat. Their armors were dusted and grimed, colors on suits faded by repeated use and lack of upkeep. Orders were rare and directions seldom changed. The wolves followed a usual routine of shifts and patrols, weekly upkeep and dismal downtime. The food was bland rations, meals were of cheap quality, taken from their reserves. They had not known fresh meat for some time. The troopers had lost interest in the stars outside or wondering what lay beyond them. The mysteries of space held no speculation to those who had been adrift out there for longer than they ever could have wished. While some had begged the upper command to let them make dock on a planet, any if possible, requests had been denied by order of the crown. When questioned as to why the leadership would not wish to let the travel weary crew take reprieve on land, no answer had been given. Tensions had begun to build and discontent grew like a rising tide.

It hadn't always been this way, of course...

Captain Magnus treaded along the hallway, his gray eyes cast downward with fatigue. Long ago had he stopped wondering as to the cause of the conditions aboard the ship. He was well aware that not all was as it should be, that something in the upper tier of command was very wrong. But at his rank, it was not wise to ask questions or poke his black nose into matters beyond his post. His was not to question, but to follow. The ashen colored wolf passed by a pair of knights, warriors armored in greaves from legs to shoulders. No helmets to cover their faces, as they once had so gloriously sported. Magnus groaned quietly under his breath, the guards were lazed against the walls, barely noticing his presence. He could have passed on, as most officers did, or had become accustomed to. But something in him made the wolf stop and glance to the lackadaisical warriors. "Tired, brothers?" he asked, a tone of mild resentment building in his voice.

The guards seemed uncaring of his presence, they glanced at him and shrugged, small smirks on their muzzles. "Slow day, Magnus." The first, Errin, gave answer. His compatriot, Flach, chuckled, adjusting his sheathed blade at his hip, "No activity out of the normal. In fact, none at all, aside from your passing. Must be all the action is in the mess hall." Magnus felt his hands tightening behind his back, turning his head forward, sighing softly, "Be that as it may, it would be wise of you to remember you are warriors of the steel. Your presence should carry that weight, as should your form." The other two snickered, taking it to be a jest. "Come now," Flach grinned, "Warriors need war, Magnus. We are glorified guards of the watch. Our form is quite natural. Do you see any war around here, Errin?" His watch partner shook his head and mock looked about for signs of trouble. "Nay, I can't say that I have, recent or otherwise!"

Magnus grit his teeth, growling through his clenched jaw, "Be that as it may, in the presence of an officer, the code says-"

"The Code has not meant anything in some time, be that as it may be!" snapped Errin, taking a step forward toward Magnus, presenting his front teeth, a sneer on his muzzle, "Neither has your presence..." he hissed, challenging the officer. Flach stepped up, leering alongside his comrade. His hand wrapped about the handle of his blade, silent, eager to let loose. Magnus was still, inner turmoil storming inside his heart. His eyes closed, tightly held lids struggling, a deep breath filling his lungs that he let escape through his nostrils. "...Return to your posts...and remember your place. Not everyone is so fortunate to hold privileged ranks." He pushed on, refusing to look back at the other two, hearing Errin snidely mutter behind, "Coward.~" Magnus did not stop, his footsteps carried him on faster and faster. Fire burned through his cheeks. He could feel his teeth gnashing together. Flashes of the past times spinning through his mind like an old film.

In the olden days...when everything had purpose...order, and sense.

The Fenris were a proud race, united in a tribal empire ruled by the glorious monarch. The skills of the wolves had gained them notoriety in the galaxy as creatures to be reckoned with. The many cultures of lupine race had united under a singular front. Even the rebellion of the fearsome Genji had been quashed and stomped out, and the traitors dispatched effectively. The skilled enemies had become reigned in over the years and made to serve, and serve well they did. The Genji had been few in number now, and through proven loyalty and fear of further execution had joined the crown as loyal bodyguards to the noble houses. Perhaps that had been where they had gone wrong, trusting the damned shinobi. One such warrior, Mathias, has whispered into the ear of the crown, persuading them to take the glory of the Fenris rule into the stars, to seek out other planets to set a foothold in and spread the ways of the wolf to the galaxy. The crown trusted the advisor, and left the planet in the care of his doting queen. There was no fear for her safety, the people loved her like a goddess, she was revered for her kindness and charity. She spent her days among the commonwealth, revered and adored. The campaign had been successful, at first. The Fenris fleet carried on, securing holds in planets fit for supply chains. It was only when they received transmissions imploring them to return to the home world did things worsen. The messages cried of a calamity of titanic proportions, garbled images of flames and collapsing rubble. The Crown immediately ordered a swift return to make haste. To the horror of many, the glorious planet no longer remained. Not destroyed, but vanished entirely, no clue left behind to find.

The Crown had known defeat, but never before like this. A different sort of loss ravaged the fleet. Orders from high bade the fleet to separate and seek out the lost world, or any trace of the planet. It had proved to be an endless toil. Contact from other ships was lost over time. Perhaps they had been lost in the dangers of space. Maybe, they had become disheartened, and like the crew aboard the Grimsbane, had ceased to honor the old ways. Too many years had passed since then. Magnus could stomach this madness no longer. He entered the level lift, pounding the key to take him to the control command. A shimmer of lights, a soft hum, and seconds later he was stepping out into the command deck. Technicians manned the controls for the ship, staring vacantly at their screens and logs. Magnus would normally have returned to his seat at the helm, but instead paced past the post he too had grown to resent. Instead, he marched forward through another hall, stepping into the adjacent meeting room. Inside, seated at the round table, sat Commander Verald and Grand Vizier, Tozen. The Commander was fitted in his casual attire, a red shirt and black slacks, laid back in his seat. He was a wolf of brown fur, green eyes that had long lost the look of fierceness. Vizier Tozen was an old dog, face wrinkled by time and age, time had turned him into a politician, the worst of things. His snowy gray fur highlighted his decadence, yet he still wore those mass of robes and ribbons of nobility about his neck and shoulders. The two leaders, if they could be called such, turned their eyes unto the arrived captain.

"Magnus, what brings you to our cave?" grinned Verald, the commander touching a finger to his chin. Magnus paused, looking from one to another, and bowing his head forward, "I beg pardon of this interruption, but I must know of our next move. Our supplies continue to deplete, and I fear that-"

"The supply is plenty. We've no need to replenish yet." Verald interrupted, "Do not trouble yourself with such things. They are above your post. We have it all well in hand." He smiled casually, giving a dismissive wave with his fingers, "You are Fenris. We know not fear. When the time is at hand, we will resupply."

Magnus hesitated, speaking a moment later of some pause, "And, of our next move? What is our directive? I've only been given the usual heading, but if I do not know of our next objective then I cannot possibly make the proper calculations for-"

"What troubles you so, Magnus?" asked Tozen, his cracked voice speaking with charm and kindness, folding his paws together atop the table surface. "You're looking rather shaken. Is your faith in the crown so fragile? The crown has a plan, and has been very clear. We are seeking the home world. Your directive is the same as any other. We provide the coordinates, and you take us there. You've received your coordinates, yes?"

"I...I have."

"Then do not delay. Let us make haste. We must find the lost home, for the sake of all of us. Leave everything else to the crown." the Vizier softly said, his smile creeping along his muzzle. It was comparable to a serpentine lizard. Magnus knew not to question any further, and slowly nodded, "...Aye. As the crown wills." With a nod, he stepped back and turned, marching out the doors. The next few hours passed, much as they always did, with the wolf staring out at the passing lights of distant stars, watching the drones of technicians and crewmen pass. He chewed his lip, staring off at nothing as it were. With a sudden burst of energy, he sprang up from his chair and marched back into the meeting room. It was empty, the Commander and Vizier long gone. That was fine. He didn't need them anyway. No, the door he passed through lay to the right of the room.

The new hall was long, and dark. Empty, even. No signs of life, lights barely lit to a soft glow. Eerie, it was, that no sounds could be heard in this particular part of the ship. As if all was an endless silence. Magnus knew not to question. The wolf knew that this could be his last act, if discovered. Treason was not forgiven lightly. Still he pushed on, drawing his knife from its place on his belt. He would not let this madness go on any longer. This endless drowning, the spiraling descent of former glory, the creeping death that suffocated the _Grimsbane, _it could not go on any longer. He knew what lay ahead. It was the Crown that started this all, and it would be the Crown that would end it.

Blood would have to be spilled.

Magnus arrived at the last set of double doors, pausing at the entrance. He stomached a deep breath, steeled his resolve. Treason it was. With a shaky hand, he pushed through, entering the chamber in silence.

The Grand Hall was not nearly as big as he thought it to be. More like a large room, covered by bay windows. Drapes, tattered and torn, furniture scattered across the floor in slivers and shards. Even the bed lay in ruins, collapsed and destroyed. Magnus did not have to look far to find what he sought. Standing there, by the window, loomed the shadow of the Crown. Magnus approached with soft footsteps, arriving behind the massive monarch, who easily towered over him by another foot in height. Magnus readied the knife, his breath rising. The monarch barely acknowledged him, at first. The ears of the king lifted, though he made no move to face the lowly captain. In the darkness of the room, Magnus could make out the large cloak that draped the ruler about his shoulders and covered his mass beneath. The king wore no crown, and his fur was pale, faded white. Bright yellow eyes reflected in the glass in front of him. Magnus lifted the knife, his breath rising, heart beating like thunder in his chest. The next moment passed like lightning in a flash.

"_Arrrgh!!" _

The knife clattered to the floor, dripping in crimson fluid. Magnus fell to his knees, breathing hard. Moments passed, and slowly, the shadow of the monarch turned to him, those small, haunting, bright yellow orbs casting their gaze down onto him. Magnus offered up his bleeding fist, squeezing his fingers tight. Blood dripped from the bottom of his grip, pooling at the floor in a small puddle. Magnus calmed himself, his nerves racing. This was all or nothing..."I...I seek audience, with his grace. On my word as Fenris, children of Fenrir, I honor the ways of old, and beseech thee. My blood is offered, as is my life. Hear my words, and do as you will, my lord!"

Silence. Unsteady silence. Unnerving silence. The shadow staring down at him cast its vision to the growing puddle of life fluid. Eyes rose, looking to the frightened form of the lowly captain beneath him.

_"...Speak." _