FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The gravel road. The strong smell of incenses and colognes. The brightly colored clothing. The tall, imposing buildings. The barely contained looks of contempt from every human we passed. The murmurs. The prickling of danger on my neck. It was all so familiar, so nostalgic, and it made me feel so cold inside. My brother led the way down the market district, his metal armor and muscled body easily made a path in the crowded streets. Seven years had changed nothing in this city. Green skin, a good set of tusks and any kind of weapon filled their eyes with fear, sometimes that was good, kept you safe, but more often than not, it rigged the scale against you.

I followed behind the group, my role as the team's rogue providing a welcome respite from the dark thoughts crossing my mind. Araragi, would be the obvious target, too showy and distracted for this city. He was following closely behind my brother, his little kobold eyes glinting with deviousness as he glanced at the pompous nobles moving down the streets. I would have to keep an eye on him, his reliance on enchantments could get us in trouble, even with the curse I had forced upon him. Behind him came my master, Fenris, the wizened human leaning heavily on his longsword as he walked, but stubbornly maintaining his dignity. Vox followed behind them, the young troll riding on his faithful wolf, granite hands clinging tightly to Alpha's black fur, still not overcoming his fear of the city, and I hoped he wouldn't, it'd keep him safe. Zetrop walked next to him, the orc paladin was far taller than the troll, his plate armor decorated with bits and pieces of defeated monsters, drawing away enough attention from the bundle of cloth he clutched in one of his big hands.

A shiver went down my spine as I remembered the severed hand that lay beneath that cloth, the skin dry and broken in several places, the blood a sickly green sludge, and bite marks clearly visible on the fingers. It didn't help that Zetrop had taken that diseased hand from a pair of squabbling children, just minutes before he returned with Fenris by his side. I had never hoped for Nueva Corinto to improve, its people too set in their ways for that hope to be anything but a dream, but I also hadn't expected for a plague to hit it so viciously. Even in this district, where trade and appearance was paramount, the cost of the plague could be seen. Many store fronts were closed. Houses sported bright red symbols, hastily painted in broad strokes. Telling the world who was done for, and who was blessed. One such house stood now in front of me, unlike every other house in the district it was a single story house. Big yellow walls showed small clusters of white where salt had accumulated. Large red crosses were painted on the door. A strong smell of alcohol and disease came from within,

My brother pushed the door open, a loud creak its only complain. I took a few deep breaths as I looked at my home, my former home. Cold sweat running down my back. One hand clenching tightly the hilt of my orcish dagger, before I crossed through the door frame. The small living room had seen better days, the wooden furniture was rotting, humidity had taken its toll. My father sat in the big sofa facing the door, just like he had done so many years ago. Time had not been kind to him though, and now his clothes had a hard time keeping his gut at bay. His black forest of a beard was mated and dirty, and his tusks, once a shiny white, were now sporting orange and yellow patches. The smell of alcohol came strongly from him, scattered bottles surrounding his favorite seat, clinging as my brother Saleux gathered them all in one place. Saleux leaned down next to him, whispering words in his ear, and bringing the old man out of his alcohol induced stupor.

His golden eyes looked my way, unfocused at first. His brows creased in concentration, a light of recognition slowly coming to his eyes as the seconds passed by, He guffawed, stumbling to his feet as he walked towards me, arms open wide.

"My eldest son finally returns! How fortunate are we" He proclaimed in orcish, his deep voice reaching every corner of the room. I saw Saleux flinch, pain coloring his eyes.

"I'm your middle son, Urthak" I reminded him in my best orcish, spitting his name like venom. His eyes widened, a finger caressed on of his tusks, before he took a big swig of his bottle.

"Ah....that's right, that's right. Krusk, the useless son" He muttered. He turned towards the darkest corner of the room, where a female orc, no older than twenty one rested on the sofa. Her skin was green like ours, but with a clear earthy tone to it, bits of scaly skin showing around the collar of her dress. Her brown eyes looked at me with suspicion, and perhaps a bit of longing. "Won't you greet your brother girl? This is a family reunion after all!"

"Krusk" she said with a soft measured tone. Her hands almost completely covered by the mantle she was knitting. A clever way to hide her casting.

"Grea" I replied curtly, one hand discreetly letting bit of ice form beneath my feet. With the warning sent, I turned towards my father, "You can stop the act. Where's mom?"

"Oh, you have hurt your old man. Here I thought, you came back to see us" He came towards me, hitting the low wooden table and releasing a few muttered curses out of him.

"Where's mom Urthak? I won't ask again."

"And what will you do boy? Nothing, you never had the tusks to do anything. Just like that useless wo-"

My first collided with his face, sending the old orc crashing down into his old sofa. A bewildered look on his face, soon replaced by a smug smirk. For a moment there was a heavy silence in the room. I could feel all the eyes in the room on me, weighting their chances no doubt. My father threw himself at me, bottle in hand. He roared his challenge, tusks bared for all to see. His arm swung wide towards my head, but his stance was wobbly, too open. I turned his attack away with ease, my other hand sinking deep into his stomach. He doubled over my fist with a huff, a quick kick making him fall into his dirty seat. My dagger left is scabbard in a flash, soon gliding through the air, stopping just shy from his throat.

"You...don't...have the... tusks" He spat between pants. A crazed smile twisting his face. I bared my own tusks in rage, a low growl leaving my throat as I lifted my knife, and plunged it deep into his leg. A scream pierced the room, his face contorted in pain, and his bottle fell to the ground. I knew it would be easy to end him, a malevolent desire possessed my mind, pulling out the pointed dagger from the wound, rising it for the next strike.

"NO! NO FIGHTING IN MY HOME" declared a raspy voice. My hand stopped, the familiar voice banishing the rage I had felt only moments before. His pain was enough, for now. I sheathed my blade in one fluid motion, and before he even had a chance to sigh, I grabbed him by his stained shirt and threw him out of the house. I stood there glaring at him, watching him unsteadily get on his feet and wander off. Zetrop gave me an inquisitive look, no doubt itching for a fight, but I waved him off. I took a deep breath, channeling my rage through out my body, dissolving it, controlling it. Then, I made my way to my mother's room, the short walk down the corridor almost destroying my newfound calm. I stood outside her room for a few seconds, the faded blue curtain that separated the room from the corridor did nothing to hold back the smell. Rotten meat, sweat, blood, death. It was a strong smell that forced its way up your nose. I pushed past the curtain, a deep nostalgia embracing me as I looked over the room, the few good memories I had in this house flashed through my mind. And then they shattered.

On the slightly small bed was my mom, most of her body buried beneath the thick blue blankets. Scales covered the whole of her face and neck, heavy black bags hung under her white sightless eyes. She looked so small, fragile, most of her weight supported by the wall. There were new wrinkles all over her face, the last seven years showing on every one. She didn't move a muscle as I entered silently, the old habits playing their tricks, but her eyes just aimlessly looked at the wall. Even when I stood in front of her, there was no change. That's why I made sure to make lots of noise as I dragged the old wooden stool next to the bed.

"Who's there? Saleux, is that you?" She asked with a raspy voice, barely above a whisper. Her unseeing eyes turning towards the door. "Grea, is that you?"

"No, mom, it's not them" I told her, placing one hand over her covered form.

"Krusk? Krusk, is that you?" hope marked her voice, one of her hands coming to rest upon mine, her skin coarse and dry felt strange, but the gesture still evoked a warm feeling in me. "My eldest son, you have returned"

"I'm not the eldest mom, I'm the second" I gently corrected her, a tightness forming in my chest as tears fell down her face.

"Krusk, my baby, you're back" She cried, her hand tightening around mine, a smile full of sorrow making her way to her face. "It's so good to have you back."

"I'm sorry mom, I'm sorry it took so long" I leaned closer to her, the weight of pent up emotions pushing me down towards her, my rock, the biggest light in my past. "I wanted to see you so much, but I, I-"

"I know, I know. You were always like that." She told me, delicately caressing my fingers, a part of me glad she couldn't see the many scars I had gathered on my travels. "Your father didn't understand. I didn't either. But you were always like that."

She tried her best to hide it, but there was no doubt left in my mind. She no longer had her zeal for life. No scolding and no bear hug. Even her voice lacked the commanding tone she had always used with ease. The plague had gone too far, her body was consumed, spent, barely hanging on to what little life it had left. She didn't have much time.

"Mom, I. I have traveled so far. I went to the West Tower and fought harpies. I went to Valinor and befriended the trolls." I said, each and every word a challenge to get out, tears were streaming down my face freely. "I, I even helped put down a necromancer. Mom, I, I have brought honor to our clan, I have-" I broke down, crying loudly on my mother's lap, knowing not even my studies of magic could save her. It was very likely not even my master could.

Her hand gently petted my head, her fingers combing my hair in the same way she did when I was a child. The bittersweet comfort dug deep into my soul, breaking what hold I had left over my emotions as I let it all out. She just kept petting my head, a subtle reminder of her presence, her support.

"You always held back so much. Quietly studying the world. Locking away all your worries, all your fears. You were so different from your brother." She admitted, a wistful tone in her voice, proof of her resignation. "But you never backed down, just like your uncle."

"He never recovered you know. After his daughter died and his wife left. He was never the same. But your brother, he would never tell." my body froze at the mention of my niece, her stolen life a taboo we had all agreed never to mention "Never admit of the nights he cried himself to sleep. Of the beating he willingly took. He's no longer whole."

"Only you have brought honor to the Kimaris. Only you have made me proud." A wave of coughs to her them, racking her body, and blackening the handkerchief she used to cover her mouth. Her breathing was heavy, like she had just finished training in her armor. A couple more coughs came later, and then, almost as if this scene hadn't happened, she leaned against the wall with as much dignity as she could muster. "I lost one son to guilt, and a daughter to despair. And soon I may lose them both, forever."

"Mom, what do you want me to do?"

"Your duty as the eldest" she replied with a tone that broke no argument. Her useless eyes burning with the fierce determination she had always shown.

We remained in silence for what felt like an eternity until she broke it, asking me about my life away from home. The next hour passed in a blur as I talked about Valinor, of my training, of Ernesto and our love. By the time the hour was coming to close, her eyes were closing against her will, and just minutes later I left her to doze. My mind was a chaos, her sudden announcement leaving me at a loss. Even if she was sick and dying, her word was law for us, her clan. And now, my honor demanded that I lived up to her expectations, that I lived up to my new role. My new duty to the clan.