FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Disclaimer and stuff. The following story is the first installment in a series. Though this chapter depicts no true yiff, it will in later parts. I don't like opening a serious story with sex right off the back. I hope you'll read it for the content. There isn't really anything here to paw to. If you're a fan of Tragic Romance you might enjoy this. Criticism is welcome ^.^ The character narrating the story is not my fursona by the way. It's from the point of view of Aterial who is a character made for this series alone. I own the characters, however the setting planet and species are owned by MICK39. So I guess I'll let you just read now hehe.

He was young, fragile, fur so soft and with eyes pure, seemingly innocent. Was this my enemy? How could it

be possible? This, this southern sergal boy? All my life I'd been made clear who my enemy was, and yet as

my superiors administered their integrations I was not too strong in my conviction at that point. The male had

to be around seventeen, his white and tan fur stained with a sanguine tinge, blood so freshly ordained his

body. Striped, of clothes and status, as per a way of humiliating him even more. Not killing him, no that would

be merciful. I watched, the young man stabbed, prodded and slashed with whips. I was no general, heck I was

hardly a private. I stood by guarding the dungeon and forced to see countless men and women rot here. The

lucky ones died early from lack of food or water, some yet ended their own lives. I lived in the north of Birousu

and by that right I had to fight for it. Any sergal past the equator....aside our spies were considered the

enemy. Why did I care? Plenty of southern sergals come and die here. Why, why so much concern for this

whelp? The truth of my past was my greatest baggage, more so outside knowledge of it would mean myself in

the execution chambers, better yet hanging from the gallows over the river. I was born to northern parents,

not necessary in the north. I don't remember my birth place, it's name long forgotten now. It was far below the

equator. My parents were missionaries down south. My birth was not planned, and so I might have been a tad

neglected. My caretaker was the owner of the local orphanage, a safe place for religious sergals. I was the one

northern sergal in a nursery of seven southern breeds. I made friends, easy to do as a cub. My mind not

contemplating war and hate, to much concern for teamwork and playing. Perhaps if the planet would think like

cubs there wouldn't be a bloody war. Now before me was a ghost, not in the literal sense though the sergal

would be dead in 3 days time. He had no idea he's already been sentenced to hang. These integrations aren't

for information at all, more a form of sick entertainment. A ghost still, a phantom from my past. Upon the

racks, screaming in pain was Jale. One of the very southern sergals in that same orphanage. We grew and

played together for our whole childhood. We were closer than most males in many senses. In our teen years

he and I had found a new game we frequently played. Our virginity was given to one another and in a perfect

world I'd made him my mate and moved to an empty farm lot and lived happily. Now he was being beaten

before me. I knew him right away, the white patch of fur on his tan face, making a cute insignia that he was

unique.....my little unique sergal. It had been two years since we spoke, I had fled north after the attack on

the monastery. After I ran, the north scooped me up into the army. So here I was, watching my greatest friend

used as a toy. I looked away, not able to stomach this part. Rape was far harder a thing to see a friend go

through. My armor and face mask hid my identity. I wanted to cry, his scream echoing in the stone dungeon

as he was used. I can't explain the act more.....due to me having not been able to see. I'll leave that up to

you to imagine what they did. It lasted around half an hour, before they left my old friend beaten, tattered,

might as well having been dead. Alive still but soon he'd be hanging. Three days...would it be possible to save

him? Any chance to spare his life? I thought about it heavily the first night, never sleeping, unable to see

anything other than his blood stained face. If I failed I'd be hung right beside him. Was my life worth his? I

got up and tried to wash my face. Staring in the mirror still only his face appeared. My first love....my best

friend. I lost my head, punching the mirror with force and shattering it. Blood dripped into the sink from my

wounded paw, glass caressing it in my rage. I growled, pounding around the house in wake. My mind was

alight with hate for my own people. I couldn't see any other option, it was my duty. If I died saving him then

at least I'd have peace. I knew after the beating tonight there was no way I could walk him out of there. I

began sketching on some parchment, drawing and redrawing my plans. I knew the execution procedure fairly

well since I witnessed my fair share. I thought of the gallows design, of how they operate. The victim is placed

standing over the trap and is restrained with their paws behind them and a black hood put over their head

before it falls. Once it does they dangle above the river forty feet below. After the victim sub-comes to death

they are cut down to wash away in the river. It was a long drop and the water was a dangerous torrent of

rapids. It would be difficult but not impossible. I'd have half a second to leap, having to wait just until the door

opened. I needed to cut the rope before it broke his neck and fall with him into the water all the while stoping

him from drowning. I sighed, deciding on it and drifting to sleep finally. I knew one way or another things

would never be the same. Three days until I got to test myself. I planned the next two days, checking the

gallows down to the metric measurements. I tried to stay calm not to give myself away. I new I could fit in the

crowd easily begin a guard. I'd stage an argument, try to approach him on the gallows block. There I'd

threaten the man which was not uncommon during these moments. From there, I'd just have to kick the lever,

cut the rope, and leave the rest to gravity and the force of the river. Provided I was fast enough to avoid the

barrage of arrows that would most certainly rain once I was discovered. I literally didn't have a plan past that. I

knew little of the river and had no idea where it would wash Jale and I up. I kept chuckling from time to time,

knowing this would for sure be an adventure which was something I missed from my childhood. The exploits of

a dungeon guard were hardly exploratory. If we survived this, hell we could survive anything. I wrote a brief

letter describing the situation, not in a language any one would understand however. It was a motif to my

childhood with Jale. We once played a game, we'd play spies and go around with secret letters we'd made. We

even made our own hidden language of alien characters. Meaningless scratch to most, but I hoped he'd

remember as I had. It read simply enough. Upon the outside it read "A message between friends." Within was

a short prose upon old parchment, the kind I had readily lying around. "Jale..... I can't explain fully, nor

should you be bothered, there is much on your plate all things considered. Know you have not lost all friends,

that one remains on this planet. Tomorrow they plan your death, I plan your escape. One such plan will come

to pass. Remain calm, let things happen and don't give the guards a reason to kill you before your on the

block. My plan begins there. Our lives begin there." I didn't sign it, the language was only known to the two of

us after all. I put on my guard gear. The face mask hid my identity, a scare tactic on the prisoners, all guards

had them. I marched into the dungeon that night, my steps echoing across the stone prison. My armor was

black, dark and sinister. It was supposed to scare those in the cells I suppose. I banged aside his cell,

startling the young sergal. "W-what?" He asked, shakily bruised and still a tad cut. Obvious his spirit had been

broken. My presence to him perhaps suggested another beating. I stared him through the steel of my mask,

his face fearful of mine. I took the envelope and slipped it inside, giving him a soft nod from my head before

walking away. I did not stay to watch him read. Day three, here it was. Every second of planning came to this. I

got dressed in my armor and mask and nearly tripping over some rope on the floor. I'd stolen a few links to

see how hard they were to cut through. I found it didn't take overwhelming force, so all was well. I walked with

purpose to the square, even pushed a few civilians out of my way. In a few moments I'd be a war criminal, a

traitor, a heretic, and a range of quite a lot of evils as far as the north would say. In my heart though, I was a

hero. More importantly in the heart of Jale I would be. I looked up the steps, watching the executioner

working. He was tying Jale's paws who was relaxed, clear he read my letter. I smiled within my mask, knowing

now for the first time this might actually work. I checked my side, my dagger recently sharpened to it's most

pristine state. I began breathing more heavily as adrenalin pumped from my nervousness alone. I'd have a

heart attack at this rate before I even saved Jale. I watched the black hood slide over my friend. This followed

by the noose meant to kill him. I watched, the warden now reading off the list of crimes, all of which made up.

All he had done was be a southern sergal in a norther city. The thought made me angry, nearly changing my

plans to killing the guards and razing the town. I let my self calm and started approaching faster. I drew my

dagger before the steps and looked up. "Hey!" I yelled. "This scum killed my brother! I'll do more than see

him hang this day. I call for a slaughter, we bleed him over the river then feed him to whatever is drawn in." I

say, feigning anger. The crowd cheered at the violent alternative to a clean execution and the executioner

forced a smile on his overall glum face. He raised his hand, inviting me up. "For your crimes against the north,

we sentence you to death. In the circumstances, we will allow this man who's brother you killed do the honor of

sending you to the underworld." I nearly let out a giddy laugh, they were letting me get close, it was perfect. I

stormed the steps and raised my dagger. I griped the sergal by the throat, not very hard but convincing

enough. "You bastard......I'm going to end you here and now....before these people, before the world here

you pay for your crimes!" I held the dagger across his throat under the black hood. He gulped, still not feeling

totally safe obviously. I peeked down at the lever, having to do this right. I I sliced the rope suddenly and

held him by his throat still looking like I was going to kill him. "Now just say goodbye." I said softly and

smiling wide. I suddenly forced my leg back and smacked the lever down. The door fell and so did we. Cries of

outrage followed, but gravity helped us get away. I underestimated the force of our fall. We hit the water like

concrete. I gasped, having the air knocked out of me I dropped Jale. I breathed more deeply, fighting to get

my composure. I tried to swim, remembering his arms were bound I shot to action. I dove for him, grasping

him under my arm while fighting the rapids. My armor added a needles forty pounds which made swimming

harder. It was a deadly oversight on my part. Mean while I had one arm busy with a two hundred pound

sergal, I'd drown before anything. I fought for air, holding Jale above me I could tell he wasn't moving at

all.I was panting hard. My heart racing as I kept submerging. The river was fierce. I swallowed a fair bit water

and felt my lungs screaming from within. I was going to die I thought. I screamed, pushing every ounce of

determined power to stroke with my one arm and my legs. After 20 minutes the water's chill got to me and my

unconscious friend. I assumed the force from impact knocked him out or he was dead. I couldn't think, no

time for that while I had to swim. I lost feeling in my legs, hoping to the gods I was still paddling down there.

My body temperature was dropping and I was burning every calorie I had fighting the rapids with my friend.

After a hour and a half each heart beat echoed through my body like a painful earthquake. I was about to

have an a heart attack in the literal way. I felt defeated and my body stopped moving. I just couldn't fight it.

My heart slowed to a near stop and we drifted. I passed out for a few seconds, shooting awake as I took a

water filled breath. The pain of water hitting your lungs shot me awake. My chest felt like it was being torn

right out of me. Every muscle in my body was screaming in its own separate voice, a sympathy orchestra of

pain echoing through my body. Two hours from our drop I entered a pattern of passing out only to wake

seconds later under water. Each time waking from the shot of white hot pain from water trying to filter through

my lungs. Finally the river split into three streams and eventually into creeks from there. At some point we hit

a shallow patch and stopped flowing. I drug Jale to land and fell on the ground with my arm still around his

body. I was not sure if he was even alive at this point. My heart quivered painfully inside as I went through

cardiac arrest. I couldn't scream in the pain, didn't have that kind of energy left. I merely laid aside my friend

when my heart finally stopped. My final few breaths were in happiness, knowing I had died trying. I died a free

man and a self proclaimed hero. In the afterlife I'd have my honor now if nothing else. I smiled weakly and

let myself go.

To Be Continued

Characters © Niruham

Planet and sergal species ©Mick39