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Chapter 1: A Warrior's Sin

After a period of stillness and recovery from a tragedy close to home, a single person stood at the foot of two stoney graves. They had tall ears that ended with a tuft of dark hair each, and a canine head that told more of its mixed heritage. He had no mane, rather, his neck hair was trimmed evenly. He wore a dark robe that was two layers thick, with wide, baggy trousers that were a royal purple. His trousers were wrapped a few inches above his ankles in a practiced manner. He also had a tail that was foxlike in appearance, with a white tip but the body of the limb was a light brown, almost tan color, with the remainder of the hairs long and whisker-like.

The gently whispering breeze made his ears and tail sway, shifting as they detected an approach.

"Senryul dear, Kera would not doubt your devotion to his memory..." said a feminine feline, a lynx dressed in a simple white gown, with lavender eye shadow and gently adorned earrings.

"Shiriya, my love... He doesn't mind. We talk, here in the open." the hybrid said.

"We talk about every day he is apart from us. He and Silvus both tell me grand tales of the Beyond..." Senryul said with a smile, and a small sniff. The hybrid then turned to his mate.

"Forgive me my love, I kep-" he said but stopped: Shiriya was holding a package in her arms.

It was a long box simply wrapped in red silk. It was longer than his leg by half a foot, and his master's mind began to decipher the situation.

"It took less time than he predicted." Senryul said, as Shiriya held it out to him, smiling.

"My lady..." Senryul said, kneeling before his lover before he rose to accept it.

As the box met his hands he felt the weight and began to unravel the wrapping from end to end.

Beneath the silk sash, a seven foot length of high-grade material, there was a plain wooden box. Senryul's eyes immediately lit up, and the pointed nail of his thumb found a seam along the front and around the sides.

Adding his other hand to the task, both thickly calloused palms grabbed and raised the cover.

The sword "Sunderer" sat sheathed within the box, where it was packed with more silk, a blue sash of equal quality as the wrapping. The hilt was as he remembered, an eleven-inch piece of treated and stained waxwood, carved into shape and decorated with a master's eye and experience.

"He wanted you to remember what led you to him, so he forged the new blade upon the older one." Shiriya said as Senryul's right hand met the familiar hilt, and cocked his head in wonder.

"The older fittings weren't bad. What destroyed the blade was stronger than the forge's heat." Shiriya continued, as Senryul pulled the sheathed blade free. The weight was different, as Senryul could feel the new material in the scabbard and with both hands, he drew his sword.

The top of the hilt was a polished steel cap that reinforced it from impact and braced the tang. The cross guard, an angled and spiked bar of metal, crept up his wrist, had two short pieces left and right like the sharpened claws of a hammer, and angled down his fingers, ending in a polished brass nub at both ends.

"What an improvement..." Senryul whispered, as he looked along the silver blade, polished to a razor-thin, fine edge.

The new portion of steel, twice as long as the broken tip, was curved as before, but serrated.

"I know what I can do with this..." the hybrid said, turning to swing the blade and release a ribbon of red light that flew into the distance. Shortly after there was a chain of bursts the length of the cutting streak, and Senryul smiled at the weight of his return.

"A fine tool, from a fine craftsman, for the finest warrior." Senryul darkly said to Shiriya with a smile.

"And now, we will begin." the hybrid said, as he and his mate shared a soft kiss. As their lips parted, the lynx whispered "All that he loves should burn."

"A second, completed Rite of Carnage will mark the land and soak it with enough blood to found my own Council..." Senryul said.

Shiriya batted her eyes softly.

"The Great East Lake...is where your enemy's from. Wouldn't you enjoy taking that away from him?" the lynx asked, presenting the idea, and letting it dangle like the finest cut of steak. Senryul turned to his wife, his eyes aflame with a smile as savage as his intentions.

"Yes my love, I would very much enjoy this. The Great East Lake will swell with blood." said Senryul.

***

The master swordsman brought a few of his Beastridden with him, on a trip they took at their own pace.

As they approached the settlement from a few dozen feet away, they could sense the immediate change in temperature from the lake, and outside the gates they all gathered to watch the settlement of assorted werefolk work. They were busy, with commerce on the particular street that led into the village, which sprawled a long ways past the town entrance.

A large, spiny bear in light armor crossed his arms and smiled at the rest of his group.

A red ramhawk leaned against a post and cleaned one of his wings, an eyebrow cocked as he watched.

"Is this the place, Senryul?" he asked, in a deep voice.

A broad saurian licked venom from their maw and also looked at the master, and Senryul lifted his sheathed blade over his shoulder. He closed an eye and listened to them all, and picked up on an a rural accent, a drawl.

"This is definitely it. Can you hear it?" he said, with a sneering smile that grew enormous.

"It was right in front of me the whole time." Senryul said, with the five of them spreading out into the town to begin an orchestra of anguish.

The ramhawk began to smile as he held up his scaled raptor fingers, and drew energy into his now rune-coated horns which energized his body. Then, with a sequenced, high-pitched cry he fell to a knee and swung his fists and beak to the ground, calling three huge, superheated swords to fall from the sky. The swords smashed around him, into buildings and through one misfortunate soul, who burst into flame and vanished into a pile of ash.

"HARZOK'S HERE!" he cried, and raised a sturdy, smoldering hoof and stomped. A gate opened in the sky, and a pillar of red hot stone smashed a group as they fled.

The saurian very calmly swallowed their arm up to their elbow, and began to vomit steaming acid onto many, and the hot fluid instantly began to badly burn and dissolve them with a powerful caustic agent that left them screaming in terror and agony as it very quickly left their bone exposed.

The spiny bear began to run, and as he ran his spines began to unify with every step until his body had a hardened, wicked carapace. He bouldered through the nearest wall, and kept going, leaving a trail of crushed people as he smashed through another wall.

Senryul took his time as the rest found their targets, and burst into a sprint from two hops on his left foot as he passed someone by and left them in two, his sword a blur as he weaved into a group. After his first kill he grabbed an available arm and passed under it while his back brushed their side, and stabbed through it, and rolled over them back to back to stomp another victim to the ground. He stabbed them in their chest and felt for their heartbeat, twisting the blade when he found it and rolled off their bleeding corpse to seize the legs of another that was close, the pants legs falling from the severing of their limbs.

Sighting a rotund wolf in garden wear Senryul approached him, his sword drawn, red with blood and low. The wolf seized with fright and ran away, into the cover of a small shed and quickly uncovered a frosty crown on a shelf, with many uneven and jagged points. The heavyset lycanthrope gasped as Senryul was there before him in an imperceptible burst of speed.

"Who does that crown belong to?" Senryul asked him angrily, and with panic the villager reached for the crown...

***

Chapter 2

A Hero Reborn

The cries of prey and slaughter wailed on into the night and into the morning, with a voice calling out "JAAR!" as he awoke with shock. He sat up in the silence of his room, an condemned storehouse, as he heard knocking: three soft raps.

"Jaar, we are ready to depart." a soft voice continued beyond the door. The wolf named Jaar was immediately overcome with a fresh surge of silent despair, rage, loss and sadness, and he paused as he couldn't forget the source: his friend Jonas, an otter himself from this very monastery.

"Ah'll... Ah'm comin'." Jaar whispered as he rose to let himself out. He adjusted his cultural trunks, shorts that assisted and clothed him as his feet meet the bare wooden boards.

When he slid the door apart, he was met with a muscular otter in a green robe. He wasn't more than half Jaar's height, but his training and dedication to asceticism led him to a marvelous physique, and peace of mind.

Jaar walked past him, sliding the door shut and looked down their path.

For five years now Jaar was a resident at the Green Flow's reef, a monastery dedicated to raising orphans and promoting their traditions.

His first weeks here were met with an intense period of adjustment, as he had to deal with the present he was partially responsible for. He cried, truly and deeply, loudly for weeks. On days where he wasn't consumed with his pain, with letting his rage climb...he helped the otters with Beastridden feats of strength he cursed himself for even acknowledging.

A power he didn't ask for tore his world apart, and took a tender part of his heart along with it, just when he realized love.

As Jaar and the monk advanced, the brown wolf looked over the three gated domes they placed over the storehouse to deaden the cries of rage and sadness. They passed through the first gate and the wolf softly slid it closed.

The second gate followed, with Jaar realizing his constant bellowing put the otters in a state of discomfort.

Passing the third gate let them outside, and Jaar closed the door once past it.

"Y'all put all that up to keep me quiet huh?" Jaar asked.

The monk nodded absently as he moved to join a group of fifty or so, all ready to travel with packs and staves.

"Y'all hoofin' it?" Jaar asked cautiously, when the abbot came with one more monk.

"No, we have a raft upon the river. It is a mild hike to the depot, however." he said.

"We have a coral choir to perform for the first time in a decade, and we booked ahead to ensure you are comfortable as well."

Jaar glanced away at this.

"Y'all, Ah don't really even have to eat anymore. It ain't a thang for me to wait on the deck." he muttered.

"It is really no trouble at all." the abbot finished, and once the group collected they began to march.

*

Abbot Mewlice had said it would be a mild hike, but Knuckle knew better. He and the monks eventually rounded off two hours on the road, with the occasional stop to relieve themselves and for the otters to rehydrate.

As Jaar and the rest sat under the shade of the canopy, the lorn wolf watched the otters all converse and sip scented waters. He found himself seeing his friend Jonas here, speaking to few others. The mere thought welled his eyes with tears and he sniffed, and when he looked again, Jonas was gone.

With resentment and grief, Jaar realized that his friend deserved to be here, with his brothers and elders.

"Jaar?" Abbot Mewlice said, as he noticed that the wolf was silent, his gaze cast away. Abbot Mewlice was a very perceptive master monk at the Reef: he could see that Jaar was trying not to cry, with the smallest tear in the corner of his eye.

A few more ascetic otters also looked Jaar's way when Abbot Mewlice stood up.

"Let's continue, we've rested long enough." he said, and the rest of the monks stood at his cue.

*

The troup eventually found themselves in the forest on a quiet trail, when Jaar thought he'd heard a rustle on the wind. It was definitely quiet, but he didn't doubt he had heard the noise so he quickly scanned the air above, and the trees with his godlike senses.

"Y'all be quiet..." Jaar said softly, to the monks as they softly chatted to one another.

"We're bein' follow'd." the wolf said.

Abbot Mewlice turned to a nearby aide, and motioned to him. At once the monks all drew together in a tight format, and Jaar's ears shifted suddenly as he heard the sound again, and another soft rustle.

"You've been away awhile. Did you enjoy your downtime?" a voice said, quietly.

Jaar ignored the pointed question.

"Lemme go 'head 'n give y'all the real important stuff to start with: Y'all'r not gonna harm a single hair on these otters' heads. Ya dig?"

"So be it, I'm here for you!" the voice said.

There was a moment more of silence, and Jaar listened on, as above the canopy, there was a flutter...

"Y'all git closer..." Jaar instructed, and the short otters all looked around, their domed hats bobbing.

Jaar's chin shot up.

"UP THERE!" he shouted, as a shadow darkened a spot above the verdant curtain.

Jaar's heightened sense of sight ignored the sunlight from behind their...

"A'ight. They got wings..." he said, and he stopped, shortly recalling that day, five years ago.

"Its just a bird." Jaar muttered, and the being crashed through the fragile green rooftop. The winged form scanned the group and took an extra second, as they couldn't find Jaa-

"UUUAAAAAGH!-" they cried, as Jaar had leapt up with powerful legs, and buried his balled-up footpaw into the bird's gut. The winged foe gagged, and as they both began to fall, Jaar crossed his arms preemptively for defense.

"Hmmp." Jaar grunted, then seized the bird in both hands and reoriented so that the bird was the one under, with Jaar spreading their wings to safely descend. Once grounded, the otters all gathered, and Jaar stood tall, not even winded from his feat as he looked down at the downed flyer.

It was a surprise to Jaar to see the flyer stir after taking one of his kicks, but even as he watched, his expression didn't change from melancholy exasperation.

The flyer was a muscular hawk-like avian, with dense arms, a chiseled chest and torso, and where his waist became feathered legs and talons, was coated in loose wraps of multi-colored cloth. His wings were sheer white and sandy brown, with numerous stabilizing feathers, sharp enough to cut.

He awoke with a startle.

"HAWK!" he shouted, then looked around at the otters and tall wolf. Jaar crossed his arms.

"What?" Jaar asked curtly. The avian gasped, and rose to his feet.

"Gosh, it's really you..." he said, blinking.

"Yeah, me. What?" he repeated, rolling his eyes.

"Sorry for the, uh..." the flyer bashfully began, with Jaar growing impatient as the flyer fluttered clumsily through his words.

"I am Runeios. I serve Cajo of the Fanged Council."

Chapter 3: Rival Predators

"Hmm." Jaar grunted in response. He hadn't heard from Cajo in a long time, and it was honestly one less burden on Jaar's shoulders for his cousin to refrain from reaching out.

"The hell does he want.." Jaar began, knowing in his heart that there was too great a distance between themselves for his cousin to meet him face to face, on a few levels. He just couldn't bring himself to trust his cousin again.

"The hell does he need a servant for, too?" Jaar asked, annoyed.

The avian shifted on his talons at the question.

"My lord has requested you return for a Council-wide decree from Horned-Lord Dzuruuk!" Runeios said.

Jaar stared at the avian a bit longer, looking at the whispy trails of power he possessed, minus a Crown of Council.

"Look, Ah gotta...thing to do" Jaar said, motioning to the otters all around.

"Ah'll find ya after." Jaar added.

"Why he ain't send Urraz?" the wolf questioned.

"Lord Urraz is consort to Horned-Lord Taurem. He is currently tending to him, and I'm the only available messenger."

"Why me in the first place? Ah don't deal with this Council nonsense." Jaar said.

The bird then took on a more serious visage as he delivered his answer.

"Senryul has resurfaced. We thought you would like to know this information. My Lord Cajo has more of the details." Runeios said. Jaar was instantly on guard at hearing of the swordsman, but his fur bristled when he learned Cajo had a game to play.

"Ah'm takin these otters to where they wanna be. Ah ain't doing nothing else till Ah finish." Jaar said, and Runeios's shoulders fell.

"Well... Where are they going?" the flyer asked the wolf.

At this, Jaar actually smiled.

"Well, they told me they got a choir to perform in, but uh, Ahdunno where really!" the wolf said, and then remembered Abbot Mewlice could speak for themselves.

Jaar and the senior otter met eyes, Jaar's sheepish eyelids and Mewlice's narrowed set seemed to carry a short, tense conversation.

"Heh, sorry."

"We all remember your praiseful appraisal of our training. We can face even Beastridden with our number."

"Sorry, sorry."

The otter took a few short but quick and quite effective steps to get past Jaar, and stand ahead of his group.

"Our Coral Choir was requested to be performed at the settlement of Gjassard." the otter said, and Jaar turned to look at him as if he had carved his own face off with a blade.

"What? Why there?" Jaar asked.

"That's where the customer resides." Abbot Mewlice replied, taking a moment to note Jaar's subtle terror.

"Our first performance in a decade. We had thought the art had no one left to appreciate it, other than those dedicated to it's mastery. We thought it perhaps a bit strange" Abbot Mewlice said, chuckling shortly.

"The one to commission the performance was an anonymous resident of the crater, but they said we would meet for the receipt of our fee. Part of why our ward Jaar accompanied us." the otter said.

Jaar began to shake, rather, he felt a tremble in his wrists.

"Just for a song then?" Runeios then said, relaxing a little. Abbot Mewlice scoffed lightly at Runeios's assumption.

"To be reductive, yes, a simple song." the abbot said.

"Well, you can't go." Runeios said, growing a bit more serious.

"All of a sudden, why not?" Jaar asked, his arms crossed.

"Because..." Runeios paused, looking from Jaar to the otters. The otters waited.

"Because..." Runeios stammered. Jaar grunted in response.

"Because Senryul attacked your home Jaar!" the avian shouted, and the wolf tensely bristled up as he received the information, which brought him back to the morning.

"WHY THE HELL YOU AIN'T SAY THAT FIRST!?" Jaar roared in response, his mind a storm of feelings and memories with the blast of sound actually battering debris and unprepared creatures as it traveled.

Some leaves fell, both green and brown, as when the outburst settled Runeios was the one to look mentally fatigued.

"Because...you kicked the wind from my wings Jaa-" Runeios stopped, his eyes wide with shock as there was another, one that he was sworn to show fealty towards, and gathered himself into a kneeling position.

Jaar noted the bird's hesitation, and followed his eyes to see...

"Ah say howdy, Cos." Cajo said.

***

Chapter 4: Do You Remember?

"Howdy, Cos." the new arrival softly said. The next instant later, the air held a sort of tension, and then there was a sharp "SNAP" as Jaar tackled his cousin against a nearby tree, neither wolf looking the other in the eyes.

"Senryul wants to make a n-SHUT UP!!" Jaar interrupted.

"Why ain't any o'Y'ALL gettin up in arms over this shit!? Why're you here!? Ain't Ah been dealt a hard enough hand!?" Jaar shouted, rage welling tears from his eyes.

"Jaar, listen..." the newcomer said.

"Ah ain't come here to rile ya up. But you need t'kno-" SHUT! UUUUP!" Jaar shouted in rage, his emotions building with a terrifying swiftness until it reached a point of rage he'd never experienced before.

"ITS BECAUSE OF YOUR ASS AH'M SO BUSTED!!" Jaar roared. His cousin, still as ice, blinked once and raised his eyebrows.

"Knuck, listen..." Cajo began.

"Ah wronged ya, Ah know, but Knuck, liste- WHAT THE FUCK FOR!?" Jaar roared, actually feeling the light from his rage form behind his eyes, a searing, maddening yellow heat born from hate. Cajo's gaze shifted downward.

"Jonas, his spark... It ain't gone, cos." Cajo said, and Jaar fell silent. The nearby otters began to murmur amongst themselves at the revelation.

"Dzuruuk's been teachin' me, about the rites and rules behind us Beastridden. Jonas's spark, ain't gone, Ah can feel it. Ah know, because Ah..." he said with a pause. "Because Ah made it." Cajo said. Jaar was suddenly still, his now trembling hands clutched Cajo's hairy shoulders.

"Why... WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME THAT!?" Jaar cried, the heat behind his eyes returning, threatening to erupt from them in a storm of mortal artillery.

"Knuck, let go..." Cajo whispered, almost pleading as his cousin's claws actually pierced his flesh through.

Jaar bared his fangs in horrid frustration, his point of shatter nearly within reach, when... the wolf suddenly calmed down.

He heaved, spittle flying from his lips as his shoulders rose and fell.

"As much as Ah wanna-..." he began with a swallow.

"Ah said Ah was gonna take these otters to where they' goin'. That's what Ah'ma do." Jaar finished.

"You can tell Dzuruuk, that while Ah know he'd be happy, he can suck my dick. " he said with a point of his finger, and Cajo smiled.

"Alright. Alright coz."

Chapter 5: Gjassard Awaits

It wasn't much longer after Jaar received numerous revelations from an unwanted source that the wolf and troupe of monks reached the raft depot. From the looks of the building it was two story, and built over the river for convenience and access.

It had a thatched roof, with bundles of sticks and reeds arranged on boards to protect the people within from the elements, which Jaar could sense were wayward and fickle. Even the cloud-dappled afternoon sky carried whispers of a cloudburst, or a dreary downpour.

*

Passing through the interior made Jaar aware of how long the depot stood: the wood smelled of ages he would never find himself a part of. That, also, alerted him to the presence of his sense of smell: a surprise to him as he was borderline anosmic.

Abbott Mewlice verified their use of the raft, and at once they were seated on the lashed and bound logs, each at 22-inches by the center.

With everyone ready to depart, Jaar sat on the logs with his knees drawn up.

The otter-monks all sat crowded around the wolf, with Abbott Mewlice closest to him.

"The cabin was destroyed in the recent rains! We'll sit with you until the river hardens into black shores." he said, and Jaar nodded.

Grasping his wrists together, Jaar lowered his head, and drifted into a gentle, dreamless sleep.