FSE

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Hey everyone, this is my first attempt at writing so be lenient. There will be fur in the story, but not much for quite a while *probably somewhere around chapter 6* so please bare with me ^^

Special thanks to souldivide and wildrj, my beta readers.

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Introduction

Talathion was a land steeped in violence and poverty. To the north lay the land of vicious, cannibalistic warriors known only as the Shen. Tala (as the people of Talathion were called) who resided in the north of Talathion lived their lives in fear of raids and having their families dragged off to be made the evening meal. The Shens attacked mercilessly and without cause. Despite the havoc the Shen wrecked, the king offered very little assistance.

To the south, Tala suffered from the influence of Talathion's long time rival kingdom Berne. The Berns were a warrior race who desired nothing more than to expand their influence and power and saw Talathion's lands as highly desirable. While more civilized than the Shen, the attacks from the south were no less brutal. Hundreds of Tala were slaughtered every day for no other reason than for the Berns to expand their territory. The only solace southern Tala took was that at least the Berns weren't cannibals.

Despite these enemies, possibly the worst conditions in Talathion were to be found in the heart of the Kingdom, in its own capital lands. In Talastar, the capital of Talathion, resided the newly crowned king, Valen, a man of great cruelty and little intelligence, which makes for a dangerous combination. Having wrested control of the country from his ailing father, a man popular with the people, Valen was possibly the most hated ruler to ever disgrace Talathion. The people were overtaxed, often living in slums. Nobles traded the lowest of society as slaves. Poverty and hunger were the driving forces of the population and as of late, nothing was sacred. Many peasants found themselves staring up at the imposing, obsidian walls of the king's castle wishing him nothing but ill.

Talathion was not always as such. Stories tell of a wise, fair king of old, Aidan, who ruled in the interest of the people and influenced the time of greatest prosperity for Talathion. The harvests were bountiful, the rivers brought the water of life and never ran dry, citizens grew wealthy, and peace reigned. Legend speaks of the king's infinitely wise advisor, Kyle Oxus. Oxus, in addition to being an advisor, was a practitioner of what is now considered the dark arts. Some claim that Aidan's success could not have been entirely natural. Many believe that Aidan's accomplishments would have been impossible without the aid of an otherworldly force. In fact, it is widely thought that Oxus created an object of great and terrible power that bestowed its wielder with unnatural ability and cunning, but at a terrible price. The wielder would live a cursed life, plagued with pain and death though never finding his own relief in death.

For decades, Aidan ruled as a popular king who shaded his own suffering, including the sudden death of his daughters and wife, from the public eye. The story goes on to say that eventually, Aidan's jealous enemies learned of the object and sought to steal it and destroy Aidan at the same time. Trained as assassins, the king's enemies made their way into Aidan's chambers, tore the object away from its master, and took the life of the great king. Before the assassins could escape however, they were discovered by the king's bodyguard. Knowing they could never hope to live in Talathion, the assassins fled that night, taking the object with them. Since then, no word has reached the Tala ears about the object that became known as the Standard of the Wolf.

Presently though, legend will soon find itself revived as a young beggar crosses paths with a man with a very furry secret....

Chapter 1

Darcy moaned as his stomach rumbled once again. In his ragged, threadbare clothing, plainly colored and with his dirty, sunken features, Darcy was the epitome of a beggar. Though certainly a pitiful sight, beggars were common in Talathion, especially since Valen took the throne and decided that it would be a great idea to tax the people beyond what they could possibly muster.

As he wandered through the night, Darcy noted the general dinginess and unsightliness of the buildings around him. The streets were lined with trash and smelled of rot. Whether this smell was actually from rotting material or just an imagining caused by the general state of things, Darcy didn't know. Darcy moaned again and placed a hand on his stomach in a vain attempt to force the end of his prolonged hunger. More disconcerting than his hunger was Darcy's recollection of his life before his current state.

Darcy's family was by no means rich and by no means upper class, but they made due. There was always bread on the table, always a warm bed to lay in at night, and always the encouragement of two parents who loved him deeply even if they could not provide everything he wanted. It was possibly not the perfect life, but a good life nonetheless; however, as with all good things, it was not to last. Darcy's family had the unfortunate burden of living near the border Talathion shared with the murderous Shen, who frequently made excursions in Talan lands to raid and pillage, for the sole sake of causing trouble and satisfying an unquenchable bloodlust. Families were torn apart and family members were often found with missing limbs if they were found at all when they were taken.

At thirteen, Darcy woke to the ear piercing scream of the young girl from next door. Throwing open his bedroom shutters, Darcy uttered a cry as he saw the blaze rising from the home of his nearest neighbors. More frightening than the fire was the struggle that Darcy saw taking place in front of the house. Kalen, Darcy's neighbor and a man well-known for his strength, was attempting to prevent a band of Shen from dragging off his wife. The Shen abandoned the wife in response to Kalen's rescue attempts and instead turned their attention on the man. Drawing their wicked, curved blades, the Shen bore down on the lone man, and even though Kalen managed to fend off more than one of his attackers, there was no doubt what his fate would be. Fearing the worst for Kalen, Darcy was about to turn his eyes away from the carnage when he caught sight of a streaking figure heading towards the struggle.

"No father!" Darcy screamed in protest as he saw his own father bearing down on the group of marauders. Distracted by the sight of his friend running to his aide, Kalen altered his attention long enough for his attackers to get the better of him and was soon made lifeless by the killing edge of a Shen sword. Their quarry now dead, the Shen turned their attention to the man before them who had stopped in his tracks at the sight of his friend's lifeless body. The Shen advanced on Darcy's father in a flash and before Darcy knew what happened, had him pinned to the ground. Instead of their typical quick efficiency, the Shen for some unknown reason decided to sate their desire for blood in an especially gruesome way that night.

Darcy's father was laid out and pinned to the ground by four of the murderous Shen as their leader drew a short serrated blade with a deadly point from a scabbard at his waist. Tala in the north were especially familiar with this blade, the Shen skinning knife, and knew instantly what it meant when drawn during one of their raids. The knife was used for the skinning and cleaning of animals and was to be used for no less gruesome task on their raid victims.

Knowing the worst was coming for his father, Darcy began to sob but was unable to avert his eyes. Overcome with fear for her husband, Darcy's mother tore out of the house and towards the group of Shen only to be struck between the eyes as the leader of the marauders threw the skinning knife with deadly accuracy. Dead before she hit the ground, Darcy's mother never heard the shriek of horror that escaped her son's mouth. Rooted to his bedroom floor, Darcy was helpless to prevent this slaughter. He watched in horror as the leader advanced on his mother's body and leaned down to remove the knife. Taking no heed of respecting the body, the knife was ripped out from the body mercilessly and remained bloody as the leader bore down on his prey still pinned to the ground.

That night, Darcy not only witnessed the murder of his mother, but watched through the gutting and skinning of his father. Left with no other choice, Darcy fled to the capital city along with the other survivors of the raid.

Presently, Darcy mentally refused to continue thinking about that night and wiped away the tears that had begun to leak out of the corners of his eyes. After two years, that night still haunted Darcy through every waking hour with no end or recession in the pain. What was possibly almost as painful as the events Darcy witnessed was his feeling of helplessness that had kept him rooted to the spot while he watched the murder of the only two people who ever made his life worth living. Darcy silently vowed to himself that he would never allow himself to be found helpless again, though how he intended to achieve this as a beggar on the streets, no one knew.

Unaware of how far he had walked during his flashback, Darcy was surprised to find he had wandered far from the slums and was currently looking at surroundings that were utterly unfamiliar to him. His wanderings had taken him to a part of town he had never been to, though this wasn't surprising considering Darcy hardly ever left the slums. Vaguely wondering where he was, though more concerned with finding a meal or even better, a place to stay, Darcy continued his shuffling through the streets.

In his advanced state of starvation, Darcy began unintelligibly muttering to himself, silently cursing everything; the king, the country, his life, the Shen, hunger, Darcy hated them all and honestly had no idea why he continued to push himself to live each day. Soon, a flickering light caught Darcy's attention from a nearby alleyway. As Darcy drew closer, he heard the slight muttering of voices. Peeking around the corner, Darcy saw several other beggars huddled around a pile of trash they had managed to light on fire for warmth. Darcy's desire for the warmth of the fire conflicted with his knowledge that other beggars were to be avoided, especially at night. As Darcy stood there, deciding his next course of action, one of the beggars looked up and noticed him at the end of the alleyway.

"Oy!" the beggar called to alert his two buddies, "look over there!". The other two beggars looked up and, seeing Darcy standing there, jumped up and advanced toward him. "Get him!" one of them shouted, "he might have food!" The beggars broke into a run as Darcy darted away from the alleyway. Hunger forgotten, Darcy ran for his life. Close behind, the beggars hurried forward to lay claim to whatever possessions Darcy could possibly have.

Seeking a place to hide, Darcy darted into a nearby alleyway. Unfortunately, the alleyway turned out to be a dead end and Darcy was soon cornered by the three beggars. In a feat of agility most would not have thought possible, Darcy scaled a nearby wall and scrambled across the roof. The beggars gave pursuit from the ground, but soon lost sight of Darcy as he leapt from roof to roof.

Breathing hard, Darcy finally stopped atop the roof of a two story house. Once he had collected himself, Darcy thought back and was utterly amazed by his unexpected bouts of agility. However, Darcy was not out of the woods yet. If he was in an unfamiliar territory before, this part of town was completely and utterly alien to him and he knew he could only find safety in his usual parts of town where beggars tended to stick together with those they were familiar with. In his panic at finding himself so far from home, Darcy didn't quickly notice the little tavern across the street. In fact it probably would have completely escaped his notice if the doors of it hadn't burst open at that moment and a grown man thrown bodily from the establishment.

As the man scrambled to his feet, the doors blasted open again as a great bear of a man slammed out of them and followed the first man into the streets. The bear man stood a full head taller than the vagabond he had thrown into the street and with the razor sharp hand-and-a-half sword strapped to his hip, Darcy couldn't imagine a more intimidating man. After a few moments, Darcy recognized this man as Tynan Welk, the most feared and respected assassin in the city. Tynan was known amongst the poor as a man not to be messed with and yet obviously this man and his friends, who had followed Tynan into the street, were not familiar with the stigma that followed him since they foolishly drew their blades against him.

"You bastard!" screamed the first man, drawing his blade, "how dare you throw me like that. You will pay for that!" The man's three friends grunted their agreement at this statement, continuing to brandish their blades at Tynan in a drunken frenzy. Unperturbed, Tynan simply told the man in a low, guttural, almost wolfish voice, "If you were smart, you would walk away now. No harm will come if you just turn and leave." The first man laughed at this statement, though his friends weren't as entertained. "You think you scare me?" asked the first man, "surely you're kidding if you think I am just going to walk away" and egged on his companions to join in the joke. The other three men slowly began to cackle as they accepted what their leader apparently thought to be a hilarious statement.

As the four men began to advance on Tynan, Darcy's heart began to race. Seeing one man so outnumbered brought back the same helpless feeling he felt when watching his equally outnumbered father. Cursing himself for his inability to help, Darcy crouched lower on the roof to avoid being seen.

The men continued to laugh as they advanced on Tynan. Finally, the leader got brave and took a swing at Tynan. Darcy closed his eyes expecting to hear the sound of steel on steel, or worse steel on flesh. But he heard nothing. Darcy quickly brought his attention back to the fight and found the leader looked especially confused as Tynan had not only dodged his swing, but had inexplicably ended up behind him in a moment of agility that caught everyone off guard.

Turning towards his attackers, Tynan slowly drew his hand-and-a-half sword and readied himself for a fight. "Which of you wants to die first?" Tynan asked simply. The question seemed to bring the men back to their senses and they charged him all at once.

The encounter was over in a flash of steel. All four of the men toppled over in a heap of dead weight and Tynan was already sheathing his sword before Darcy could even register what had happened. Darcy let out a little involuntary gasp. To the untrained ear, this would have gone unnoticed, but Tynan's head quickly jerked in Darcy's direction. Darcy quickly crouched lower to the roof and hoped Tynan hadn't seen him. Apparently deciding he was just hearing things, Tynan composed himself and began making his way down the street.

As he watched Tynan walk away, Darcy's heart rate gradually slowed down and he was able to think straight. He was utterly amazed at the feat of agility and skill he had just witnessed. Darcy couldn't help but find himself thinking that maybe if he had that kind of skill, his parents might still be.......

Darcy quickly shook his head and in a split second had made up his mind. For some reason that even eluded Darcy himself, he followed Tynan that night. As Tynan made it to the end of the street, he began down a slightly winding path, with Darcy shading him. Darcy lost sight of Tynan around the next curve and as he rounded the curve, he was greeted by an empty street. Slightly disappointed, Darcy turned to leave only to run head-on into a giant bear of a man. Knocked on his ass, Darcy looked up and blanched as he found himself looking into the face of Tynan Welk.