Love, War, and Duty: Wolf Lord Rising
Love, War, and Duty; Ch. 1: Wolf Lord Rising
'When our enemies set the things we love aflame with the fires of war; must we let it burn for peace? Or must we drench the flames with our enemy's blood?'
The lands of central Daemor are brutal and unrelenting. The storms have the strength to rip the skin from your bones, and the droughts are hot and dry enough to turn any poor soul without water into dust. Only the toughest, quickest, and wittiest can survive. The toughest in this desert hell-on-earth is the war fighting tribe of Wolves, the Warklaw Tribe; under the direction of their Wolf Lord, Amon.
The quick ones are the Master Assassins of the Dunelands. The Ghostpaw tribe had been keeping peace behind veils of secrecy. The assassins where lead by a nameless ruler with a swift hand of justice. These assassins co-existed with the Thief Lords of the Kingdom. They were the Al-Tek, masters of deception and marksmanship, the only archers with more skill where the Sky Lords that ruled their land from their Kingdom in the Clouds.
Warklaw Tribe Homeland:
The Wolf Lord's tent was loud with the sounds of labor. Ahkana had been chosen by Amon the day he rose to power. Now here she was, nine months after their marriage ceremony she was starting a family with him. Amon was with her all throughout the birthing, filling her with loving words of courage.
"Come now, love, a few more. . ." Amon whispered into her ear, his words flowed like water and where as sweet as the finest wine. With a few more pushes, their son was born into the world. The infant was taken from his mother and cleansed of the birth fluids. They wrapped him in a wool blanket and presented him to his parents. Ahkana wept slightly, he had his father's features; his midnight black fur, ash grey underbelly, but the thing that made him special to her was his eyes, they were hers, a shining dawn blue. The Wolves thought that the eyes where the way to ones soul, Ahkana took pride that her soul's gate had passed on to make his.
Weeks passed and the boy was names Amark Warklaw, son of Amon Warklaw. Amon decided that his son would be a soldier when he came of age, so he had him baptised at the altar of Kharne, the God of War, fury, and strength. All the Warklaw tribe attended, this was the baptism of their future ruler, the more people offered their prayers to his future during that time, the stronger he would be. Hundreds of prayers were said; prayers of fortune and strength conquered the words of the Warklaw citizen's mouths.
6 years later - Fires of war
"M'lord, we are undone! The Sky Lords have damned us all and set their human puppets against us!" The scout was scared to the point his ears were white.
"Markaus," Amon slapped him hard across the face, "control your fear! You know what to do!"
Within minutes those who could wield a sword or axe where given armor and a shield to go with it. Those who were too young, elderly, sickly, or were mothers began to move into the wilderness in hope of reaching an Al-Tek outpost or Ghostpaw lookout. This was including Ahkana and her six year old child Amark. Amark was a bold one, six years of age; children twice his age where crying and shaking with fear; Amark was afraid no doubt, but he wanted too stay with his father in his hour of glory.
"No, no mama! I wanna' be with daddy!" Amark screeched.
"No sweetie, you can't! If you go, you and our future will d. . ." She was interrupted by the roaring of cannons and the spreading of fire. Amark took this chance to flee from his mother's grasp to go look for his beloved father. Akhana followed him into the smoke to see that he found his father, only his torso and ropes of his innards remained. The Wolf Lord's breath was raspy and spoke through gurgles of his own blood.
"W-Wor-ry. . . no-not my s-s-son." Amon looked to his beloved wife," My love, t-take. . nnngh. . . take my s-sword. Give it t-t-to our son . . . when . . . ready." With those words he passed to join the massing number of Wulfen dead. Ahkana heeded her husband's word and took his legendary Blade of Kharne, to have her son wield it and lead them to salvation when the time came to pass.
While attempting to exit the city, Amark saw things that would burn themselves into his mind for eternity, warping him, forging him like a blade, into a weapon of hate. Women and children that fled to the temple of Kharne where slain by the humans. They rose a fire around the chapel to entrap all inside and make them burn. All males that were not killed where then hoisted up on crosses as a ward for any counter attacks. Women got raped and then executed.
The young human commander, Rojas, had his deeds burned into Amark's young mind with a hot iron of loathing. Rojas and three of his musketeers neared a nursery. Two of the women that were readying the infants to be evacuated ran out to try and plead with the human assailants. One of the musketeers fired his weapon at one of them and her head exploded like a watermelon. Rojas turned towards the man and removed his hand as a punishment for having unsteady nerves. He then moved, slowly and confidently, towards the remaining nurse. She was a maiden no older than seventeen, he cooed her in the gothic language that the humans spoke. The young woman was white with fear, Rojas tried to calm her, once she did, he ran her through with his blade. Once the light of life seeped from her, he then entered the nursery, the sound of screaming infants' became nothing more than a disturbing memory.
~ + ~ + ~ +
DREAM+
A young wolf of twenty stood in the middle of a swirling, burning sandstorm. His fur was black, his mane was dark as midnight, and his under fur was an ash grey. His damning blue eyes shown like sapphires from hell; He held the Wulfen Blade in his right hand. A voice hung in the air, the whispers of the thousands it claimed sounded behind it.
'So YOU are the last one? Not as much as I had expected, but it will be a pleasure slaying you nonetheless.' The disembodied tormentor seemed to be a part of the storm. The sand began to accumulate into a shifting mass. The sand hardened to the form of a human, it was the devil in true form, and it was Rojas! The Wolf roared in feral rage, his response was as if the gates of hell had been opened and the daemons cried for blood.
"BASTARD!!! Have you no spine? Have you no honor? You resort to the Devil Arts of sorcery and you use the blood of innocents as your elixir!" The Wolf brandished his father's divine blade, pointing it at his most hated enemy. The human chuckled in demented amusement.
"Are you any different, Son of Amon?" Rojas chided.
"Shut your damn mouth! I am not a puppet of the Sky Lords! I do not resort to their foul arcane trickery to slay a foe!" Amark Warklaw howled.
"Don't lie to yourself. You worship a god of war and fury. We slaughtered you in the name of our King, a God amongst mortals." Rojas responded, his voice chilling the soul, the air was thick and slimy with his confidence.
"You conniving SNAKE! Do not weave your lies in my presence! Or so help me I will skin you even slower than I intended!"
"You may try, puppy! But you cannot kill what you fear." Rojas' voice was like the most subtle and deadliest of poisons. Intoxicating all it touched with its vile slander.
Amark charged, swinging his father's sacred blade like a madman. The Blade cleaved Rojas from shoulder to hip, but he did not die. The sand that formed him dispersed and reformed somewhere else. His laughter chilled the air like the coming winter storm. Amark set loose a howl that could have crushed the will of any man, but no daemon. Amark tried and tried but he couldn't kill this devil, he felt hopeless and weak. He promised himself that this would never happen. He felt tears begin to well up in his eyes but he choked them down, making his eyeballs burn.
"What's the matter puppy? Are you crying because you miss your daddy? Or is it your mommy? Or is it just the fact you know I am going to kill you someday?"
The sand made the last images of his parents, his father crucified, and his intestines dangling as ravens pecked at his flesh. His mother screaming as she was being burned at the stake. Amark suddenly felt Rojas' cold steel pass through his heart.
- ~ + ~ + ~
Amark awoke in his tent with a scream. Cold sweat was kissing at his black fur as tears swelled in his eyes. He tried to hold them back. His adopted siblings, Coyotek and his twin sister, Coyotka ran into his tent.
"Are you alright?" Coyotek asked.
"No, I'm not." Amark responded, his voice hoarse and cold as winter.
"Come on," Coyotka cooed gently, she walked up closer to Amark and lowered herself to her knees to come eye-to-eye with her younger brother. "What is it? You know you can tell us."
Amark responded, he looked to Coyotek first, "Brother, I wish for you to leave, I have no wish to shame you with my weakness." Coyotek understood, his adopted younger brother had more pride than any lion, and knew that men seeing him weak made him insecure.
"Wise sister, they're back, the nightmares, he is plaguing my thoughts again." Amark vented through gritted teeth, his lips quivering, trying to hold back any tears.
Coyotka stroked his hair, "if you find me wise, heed these words, and let it out." Amark looked her in the eyes, her beautiful brown eyes bored into his. He could feel the tears swell and overflow, sending streams down his cheeks. He sobbed; he had been having these torturous nightmares ever since the Al-Tek tribe found him wandering the desert, carrying his father's sword. Coyotka held him close in a loving embrace. He rested his head on her breast, his tears wetting her blouse. Amark had grown into a great warrior, all his muscles were defined to the point he looked like a living stone statue. They where almost opposites, she was a graceful, wiry thief; and Amark was a crazed, muscular berserker. But we know what they say about opposites attracting.
Morning came around. Amark was silent for the entirety of the day. He spent his morning in a usual ritual praying for strength and the rite for revenge. He was not one to be a part of the gathering of food, let alone hunting, he honed his combat skills, determined to make his fallen ancestors and kin proud, not letting their sacrifice be in vain. He fought a moral battle within him, Coyotka, the dashing young woman that had rescued him and taken him under her wing; he now felt an urge for her. It felt wrong; he was taught by his clan-kin that incest was a sin. But was it incest, they weren't blood-kin but he still felt like it wasn't right. He was highly embarrassed when she caught him staring at her breasts.
As dusk fell upon the land once more, he followed another ritual he obeyed daily. He made a trek out to an inland sea. The way the moonlight reflected off the surface of the water made him feel at peace. He heard the brush behind him rustle, he reached down for his Blade, but an angelic voice stayed his hand,
"Worry not darling brother, it is I." Amark knew the voice in an instant, it was the same that helped him sooth his fear and hatred the night before. Something was wrong though, the scent was familiar but it had a taint of something musky. He felt Coyotka's silk-soft hands on his boulder-like shoulders.
"Why must you go so far from your home to find peace, Amark?" Coyotka questioned, her voice was soft as oiled leather. Amark's response was hard as steel and lacking all compassion,
"Until I have my revenge and his blood on my sword, I can have no peace, sister."
Coyotka moved her hands down to his chest and whispered into his ear, "Of course you can, everyone has peace within. You just have to find it."
Again Amark's response was cold, "Yes, I must find it, and it is in the blood of Rojas. Once he is dead I can be at peace with myself." Coyotka stepped out from behind him; she sat on his muscled thigh. She ran her fingers through his long, black mane and kissed him compassionately on the lips. Her tongue darted in and out of his mouth. Amark's eyes bulged at the sudden kiss, even more so with the sudden use of tongues. The scent that hung around her finally made itself clear, she was in heat. She broke the kiss with the stunned Amark,
"There is never peace in violence, Amark." He could see through her trick, she was trying to seduce him like a succubus. This angered the Wolf dearly,
"You just don't get it Coyotka!" He lifted her off his lap so he could stand, despite his erection, "I am NOT a coyote, and I do not have wisdom of all things! I have no patience for your seductive games. I leave tomorrow, hate me for leaving if you must, but know this, I am the last of the Wolves, and I want blood to be spilt for the crimes long passed."
Coyotka tried to protest but was interrupted by Amark, "You cannot sway me, Coyotka, and neither can your brother! I have made my choice the day they died, and I'll be damned if I turn back now."
Coyotka saw she could not waver his resolve, so she walked up to him once more, she went on her tip-toes to be able to whisper in his ear,
"Very well, Amark, I will still be here when you get back, and you had better return alive. Remember this though, if you let your lust for vengeances consume you, you are no better than the ones you hate!"
- Outskirts of the Human Empire+
Amark had been following a human caravan for days, it finally reached the human city of Drumquil. 'How will I get inside,' he thought to himself. He decided to wait for night to strike at his target.
Amark removed all clothing except his loincloth and the scabbard that held his Blade. He hopped from cover to cover, if he encountered a human, bystander or not, they would die. Amark finally reached the base of the wall; he used his claws to begin scaling the wall, using his talons as picks to climb the rocky face.
He reached the top of the wall and encountered minimal resistance, he slew a couple scouts on the wall but that was all. Amark worked his way from rooftop to rooftop until he reached the keep where Rojas resides.
Amark followed the scent of his most hated enemy; he could smell the musk of sex and the tang of drugs. He reached a balcony with a door that lead to the sound. Getting closer he could smell a third person, also involved in sexual activities. This third person smelled of clean atmosphere, which could only be one thing, a Sky Lord was with them. This was going to be harder than Amark predicted.
The door to Rojas' chamber burst open, the solid oak doors burst of the hinges like they where leaves in the wind. Rojas jumped in surprise, so did his dragon guest and the whore they were enjoying. Rojas wasn't the seductive young man Amark remembered him to be, he was a wrinkled old man, but Amark was cautious, he took his dreams as a revelation. Before he could draw his Blade, the dragon flew across the room and slashed at Amark's chest leaving three bleeding stripes on his torso.
Amark unsheathed the Blade of Kharne, ready for his revenge. He did his best to parry the dragon's claws but managed to still get slashed across the face and back. Amark finally leapt into the dragon's flight, landing on his back. Amark ran him through with the Blade whilst he shattered the bones in the dragon's wings. The last of the Warklaw clan pulled the sword from the dragon's innards and proceeded to throw him from the balcony, plummeting to his death.
Amark turned to kill his target, only to feel the sting of steel pass through his ribs, under his armpit. He grasped the blade to prevent it from piercing his lungs. The wielder of the blade was Rojas, in a cold sweat of fear. Rojas, being fifty-five years old and being just over six feet in height, was now staring his fate in the eye. Amark was standing at 7'2" and was built like the strongest bull. The sword in his ribs groaned as it snapped,
"W-who are you?" Rojas inquired with blind fear.
"Who am I? I am Amark of the Warklaw clan, and I am Hatred, Darkness, and Despair!" Then Amark cleaved off the man's head, crushing it under his foot as it hit the ground. Amark could feel the peace begin to flow; he was finally freed from his daemons! He could finally take Coyotka as his.
- ~ + ~ + ~
Coyotka had watched the horizon for the past week, and no sign of him. Finally, the beginning of the second week, she saw him, his wounds already scarred over. He carried a crown in his hand, a sign of his victory. She ran out to greet him, others followed her. She leapt into his gargantuan arms, when she landed in his warm, muscular embrace she instantly began to kiss at his lips and neck.
"Thank the gods your alive, I thought you would never return." Coyotka's voice was quivering and tears were flowing down her face. Amark said nothing, he just hugged Coyotka and met every kiss she had with his own. He could hear her gasp as she rubbed her hands over the scars on his chest, back, and face.
"My dearest, what happened?" Coyotka inquired cautiously.
Amark chuckled to himself, "I encountered a Sky Lord . . . and I killed it." The people around them gasped at this revelation, never before had any of them seen, let alone slain, a Sky Lord.
Coyotka quickly escorted her returned hero to her tent. She unbuckled the belt and scabbard that held his Blade. At the same time Amark was reaching behind her and unstringing her blouse. Coyotka's blouse fell to her feet, exposing her perfectly formed breasts. Amark gave one of them a gentle squeeze as Coyotka did the same to his genitals. Amark could feel his tip begin to peek from its sheath. Simultaneously, they began removing each others loincloths.
After both of them had removed each other's loincloths, they could begin. Coyotka grabbed at Amark's black hair so she could work him down to her cot. They shared a long and loving kiss. The smell of Coyotka's unmasked heat was enough to drive a lesser fur mad. Amark gently slipped his finger into the succulent lips in-between his lover's legs. Coyotka gasped at the sudden intrusion, she could feel his rough finger twist gently, and sending pleasurable shivers up her spine. Amark was getting a similar treatment at this time. Coyotka was gingerly massaging his groin, going from his large genitals to the tip of his still erecting and hardening cock, and back down.
Amark's tongue slithered across the pink tips of his lover's nipples as they quickly became tart under his rough lupine tongue. Coyotka could do nothing but savor his parade. By this point, all eighteen inches of his wolfhood was stiff and pulsing.
Coyotka looked down, anticipation held her firmly, she had seen an erect male before, but never had she seen this...beast that the Wolf possessed. She timidly spread her legs, exposing the angelic fur and the sunset pink lips of her pussy. She slowly wrapped her arms around his cannonball shoulders. Amerk understood, she welcomed him and he happily obliged.
Amark grasped at her hips, slowly pulling them closer together. The head of his wolf-cock gently pushed within her. Amark's heart fluttered, he never thought he would be this lucky. When he looked into her eyes, she met him with a loving kiss that held the tint of 'take me'. Amark began to push harder and harder, eventually, he went as deep as she could allow. Coyotka let out a shrill yelp of pleasure and the pain of being speared so deeply. Her claws bug into his back, holding him close as he rocked back and forth, in and out. Every sense seemed to be intensified; Coyotka could feel every detail on the Wolves cock as it slid to the hilt to the head. Amark was barely coherent of the world around him he was in such pleasure.
They both felt it, an enormous, wet knot forming at the base of Amark's throbbing member. Coyotka gently bit into her lover's shoulder, the muscle didn't seem to budge, he was built like tempered steel under that hide of his. Coyotka freed a hand so she could try and massage the huge knot, trying to coax it into her. The stubborn cock finally gave in as the knot slipped into her and shot ropes of hot seed into her. Coyotka and Amark both reached their climaxes simultaneously, the walls of Coyotka's pussy shuttered as she had her orgasm. At the same time Amark's lupine member throbbed as it continued to feed the creamy seed to the awaiting pussy of its mate.
Amark and Coyotka suddenly felt tired, having such a heavy weight lifted off their shoulders. They fell asleep together silently; awaiting the future and the times it will bring