The Roxas Chronicles I
Here is something new from Neptune. The epic tale of Roxas, a young yet powerful shaman from a country far far away who is able to communicate with not only his tribe's fallen warriors and wise elders, but the greatly feared Anubis, God of both Death and Wealth! This is just the beginning of his long journey to become his country's Greatest Diviner.
This chapter does not have any yiff in it, but I have planned for it to include it throughout the rest of the story, but it will not be the central idea for the story, but rather extra spice.
Hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
~Neptune Wolf
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The Roxas Chronicles I
By. Neptune Wolf
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Part One: The Uncertainty of War
The scene was hypnotic. Large tribal drums beat to a swift, primordial rhythm possibly thousands of years old; maybe fifty in all in the sacred circle. They chanted before the immortal fire's wild bloom. The intonation waved, rose and receded erratically as the elite warriors, with their large hand-crafted wooded spears and shields approached the flame doing their dance. The leader, the one wearing the mask of gold decorated with an extravagant mane of black and red feathers, approached the fires boldly. His wild dance of rhythmic swaying and weaving was guided by the sudden, sweet addition of flutes. With his long, feather-decorated spear in paw, he raised it to the night sky as he danced. Sweat glistened off of his short ebony fur and solid, youthful muscles. The dance, the drums, the fire, the crowd chanting over and over "Obasi, Obasi. Azikiwe. Azikiwe" thundered throughout the flat lands.
The young hyena was frightened, but he showed no fear. He stood there composed, his arms to his side, his eyes focused on the warrior in black, red, and gold as he danced, his lean chest bearing the sacred heavy beads of the Shaman. One chain of gold; the elderly. One chain of pearls; the females. One chain of fangs; the tribe's warriors. One chain of cowry shells; the dead. One chain of ancient silver coins; the hunt. The list went on to make twenty chains in all representing the values of the tribe. The pup wore them proudly. His mind was at ease as the scent of sweet herbs wafted past his nose. His ears and muzzle perked up with arousal. His head started to lean back as he soon began to pant. His body started to sway gently as he stood. The fire danced in his eyes. He closed them and then opened them again. The fire moved like smoke; deviating off in swirls. The pup could see the smells around him, taste the music pulsing, but he could sense there were more people in the crowd coming closer to him. His body startled. The herbs given to him before the ceremony were starting to infuse with his very soul.
BOOM!
The drums suddenly stopped, the echo of the last beat fading to silence. The Leader made the signal. The young shaman swayed in silence, the drums still beating in his mind. He raised his paws to the clear night sky and stopped.
"The Five are here." The young one proclaimed. His eyes were glossy, mirror-like black orbs in his skull.
The crowd quietly cheered. It was very good news. "The Five" were a collection of the spirits of the tribe's most respected elders from hundreds of generations before them. It was tribal law to ask their permission to proceed in war, but the last of the respected Shaman had died years ago, leaving only one promising apprentice; a half-breed named Roxas. The Five Great Spirits were there before the young one in a faded and blurry form. He saw them come forth from the crowd unnoticed by the others, to meet him in the inner circle. The Leader raised his spear, signaling the crowd to be quiet, for only the young one could see and communicate directly to the Five Great Spirits. The pup gazed upon them; Five faded figures. He was not able to see them clearly, but he heard them speak. The Hynine shaman relayed their message:
"The war will be bloody, but the Village of the Flatlands will prevail!" The crowd cheered. Spears were risen up, but the Leader held up his paw to silence the crowd; the pup continued. "The Five Great Spirits prophisize that the war will cause great famine, and the homelands will be deserted." The crowd grew silent. "The Fourth Spirit foresees ice. The Fifth Spirit foresees new foes. The First: new allies. The Second: small gains. The Third . . ." The pup paused. His eyes grew wide for a split second. The Leader looked on. "The Third tells me to not say what he prophesies."
"Roxas . . . Tell us what the verdict is." The Leader asked, knowing the answer, his voice heard by all.
"The Spirits oppose this campaign." There was uproar as voices are raised and drums are struck.
"But that is against Tribal Law to not accept a challenge!" A bold fellow shouted from the crowd. He was a member of The Leader's Inner Circle. Several others voiced their opinions despite The Leader's raised fist. Fangs were bared. Claws were unsheathed. It would soon become ugly if not handled well.
The Leader held his fist up silently. It was the universal signal of silence amongst the tribe who valued both the art of conversation and war. Very little responded and even more voices were raised. The Leader bared his teeth and his elite warriors bared their spears and shields. They dispersed into the crowd. It was of great disrespect to speak when The Leader commanded silence and was punishable by death. The crowd of various breeds quieted quickly. The black-furred figure with the heavy mask of gold turned to the young half-breed. He spoke with gaiety to him, almost mocking Roxas' high position. By law, the young shaman apprentice should have been killed for blasphemy against the Five Great Spirits, but he decided to allow him to explain. Maybe the young one can't see or hear the spirits as much as he thought.
"Tell us, Roxas. Why would the Five Spirits tell us not to do battle against The Tribe of the Frost?" The Leader said with a forced laugh.
Roxas looked up at the masked figure. It was a fierce and ghastly war mask that smiled with fangs brandished, whiskers dominant, and ears perked. It looked like a variation of King Anubis from hundreds of generations ago, whom the young shaman's apprentice had met today, the first Spirit.
Roxas was frightened, but he was as still as a mighty tree trunk. The Leader was a warlord, not a King. He was a menace who dominated The Land of Far Sight, known as The Flatlands. The Leader ruled with fear, but he masked it with false respect for his subjects. He called himself the Son of Anubis, the God of Death. Roxas knelled on one knee before his king, his right fist on the ground; something only the elite could do before The Leader. His longest Shaman's Beads touched the ground; the chain of wooden bark from the Elder's Tree that represent the Earth.
"The Five Spirits say no to this battle, even though they foresee achievement. But it is just that. Achievement, not glory." Roxas' advanced vision was fading. The special herbs used in preparation for the ceremony were wearing off. He could see the Five Great Spirits walking away, through the crowd and to the empty, endless desert on the farthest end of The Leader's Domain. The First looked back with a nod.
The Leader stood there silently, looking down at the young shaman in his shadow cast by the fire. The crowd was silent as tension brewed. The Leader looked down upon him for what seemed like an eternity. Without warning, he laughed; a full bodied laugh that made his shoulders shake.
"And you call yourself Equeffi's apprentice?" His laughter become cruel as he turned to Roxas. "You can get down on both knees, young one. And put your palms to the ground, you are no longer in the Inner Circle." Then, in his booming voice, he addressed his people.
"As you know, this young fraud has committed a crime here today. A crime that makes us wonder if he could even evoke the Great Spirits in the first place! How do we not know he is not working for the Village in the Frost? The only punishment is death!" The crowd roared with approval. Spears were raised. The 100 drums of the tribes drummers were struck with a special rhythm; Anubis' Stroke. It was a beat that involved feral, yet deliberate strokes. It struck a great fear into Roxas which caused him to sweat. He felt its beat vibrate the lands. He saw the Great Spirit appear before him once more; Anubis. He always appeared during this particular beat, for it was always accompanied by an execution.
Anubis stood before him wearing his traditional black and gold silk garb; black for Death and gold for Life. Roxas looked down at the Deity's bare footpaws. They were immaculate. For the first time in his life, he could see the great Anubis as if he were flesh and blood. His heart beat fast and he panted, but something told him to look up. The Deity's muzzle had a predator's smile; cold yet trusting. Anubis nodded to the young half breed. His tail swished, making his highly ornate gold tail-band sparkle in the fire's flickering light.
The Leader snapped his fingers and four officers stepped out of the crowd to the center. They wore heavy armor and each had a mane of rare silver feathers in their headfur. They circled around the young half breed shaman. The crowd was ecstatic and bloodthirsty. Even the women were yelling to take his head. The leader smiled, but he raised his fist. There was silence.
Anubis walked away backwards in graceful steps accompanied by the smooth movements from his tail. He faced Roxas as he went through the crowd like a ghost going through people. The Great Deity had a sly smile on his muzzle.
"As we all know, Roxas has been a member of the Inner Circle for over 4 years now. He has served the Village of the Flatlands very loyally since his birth. And, not to mention, Equeffi spoke highly of him. For that fact alone, I shall grant a very rare liberty in excusing this child, but not without him being punished." The Leader proclaimed. The crowd cheered. Roxas' ears perked. He was trembling slightly at the intensity of the situation. Four spears were at his neck. A million things ran through his head. 'Why now? Why would I see him clearly now?' he asked himself. He remained stoic, as if the entire situation was happening to a stone soldier. The Leader's fist was raised as he turned to the young shaman.
"Roxas, you are from now until your death exiled from the Village of the Flatlands." The Leader stripped him of the Tribes Shaman's beads. The crowd went silent as the drums beat a low and steady rhythm. Roxas got off his paws and knees as the crowd split, making a wide pathway out of the village. The warriors raised their spears and shields as they chanted "Be gone from our village". The solemn beat went on as Roxas walked through the path; the exact same path Anubis exited. He could see the reflection of the Deity's gold bangles and tassels far off in the pitch black night, catching light from the far off fire. On the ground were paw prints in the sand.
The young half breed shaman's apprentice walked forward, out of the village. Far and far he walked out of The Leader's Domain known as The Flatlands. He never looked back, only forward as he thought about all he was leaving; his large amount of property in The Leader's bastion; his mass amounts of wealth given to him; his friends and mates who trained with him; his high position as Arch Shaman. It was all gone.
With nothing but the fine black and gold silk loin cloth, he marched on and on until he could no longer hear or feel the beat of the drums, the chants of his people, or the curse set upon him.
The glorious rising sun was before him. He had been walking for hours without stopping, and it was there, at the entrance to the Land of Abundant Wealth in the far South, that he stopped and said a simple prayer to the First Spirit.
"Watch over me, Great Spirit, for I am about to enter a new stage of life."
* * *
The marketplace was bustling. Fursons talking amongst themselves and others were selling their wares. The heat was something like he never imagined. It was heavy, a physical burden to the young hyena but he kept on moving. The Imperial Palace is where he had to be.
The Land of Abundant Wealth was where everyone who wanted a new life went. It was a huge land of lush green vegetation, oppressive heat, and diamonds. This was the Central State of the entire continent. All wealth passed through the Palace here first and foremost, not only so King Qidaffi Azizah could get his cut, but so it could be processed and distributed. With a palace draped in gold, diamonds and other gems, the elder Lion sat at his throne for thirty years, and in those thirty years no village ever saw famine or suffered through drought.
King Qidaffi was a strange ruler. With his right paw, he handed out bread. With his left paw he took away all wealth and identity. Under his rule everyone had work. The diamond mine was not mined by slaves, but by citizens who volunteered. For every karat they mined, Qidaffi gave them five hundred Coin, which fluctuated without warning if the market was bad. For every karat the King received, he either used to furnish his palace or sold to other countries for one thousand Coin. For every one Coin Qidaffi got, the people got five percent of it, which was spread out across every village thinly yet enough to get by. What a mine worker could possibly get in one day was four times what the farmer or glass-maker or blacksmith got in a week. It was back breaking work, managed by Qidaffi's army but it was the best way to make a living in the Land of Abundant Wealth.
Roxas walked humbly throughout the market, but was even more humbled when he saw a mob of mine workers coming back with the spoils of their work. There had to be at least fifty in this group alone. Their fur and poorly kept loin cloths were covered in black dust and soil. Some were elderly, some were so young the could barely walk. Two wolves, about the same age as Roxas, approached him. One nudged him slightly to get the hyena's attention. The other kept look-out as they spoke.
"You look new here. Too clean." The wolf said not looking in Roxas' direction and pretending to admire the craftsmanship of a clay pot at a nearby stand. Roxas simply nodded. The male wolf had a smooth accent unlike his own.
"I just got back from the mines. Managed to skim a little off the top without the watchman noticing. I'll give you a good price. Got a few four-karats and one ten-karat. Name you price." Roxas shook his head without saying a word.
"Judging by your fine cloth, I'm pretty sure you could spare a few Coin." The second wolf prodded Roxas' kidney with a crude blade.
"I have no money. I have no wealth. I am of no use to you." Roxas proclaimed walking forward towards the palace.
The first one stopped him, revealing a firearm. "Hehehe, listen to this boy, Hakim! He's speaks like one of those country boys from the Flatlands!"
The second one laughed. "And look at him! He's a hyena with both spots AND a mane!"
They both laughed with delight. Roxas didn't like being made fun of, but his teachings helped him stay in control.
"I do not desire to fight with you two." Roxas said sternly as the barrel of the pistol aimed away from him, the two laughing loudly, attracting attention. The first wolf pushed him.
"Come on! We're just having fun with ya! Not often we see something like you, walking around in that cloth as if you're high society. You don't even have a Coin Bag." The second wolf said as he ran a paw through Roxas' tan-colored mane that went from his forehead to halfway down his back in stiff spikes like quills, yet soft to the touch. As soon as the wolf's paw touch his body, Roxas reacted. Using only two fingers, Roxas struck the center of the wolf's forehead like lightning. With a high pitched yelp, Hakim hit the ground. Not out cold, just stunned.
"That will be your only warning, Wolf."
Hakim rubbed his head and got back up. The crowd around them only gave passing glances. Two or three stopped to see if the fight would elevate.
"Look, around here things are different-"
Roxas cut him off. "Yes. Beggars pull out knives and guns to ask for money."
"We were just having fun!" Karim, the second wolf pup exclaimed.
"Fun and games are for the weak." And with that, Roxas proceeded to the Imperial Palace, walking like a warrior with head held high, much less humble than before. In the crowd he passed several dispersed soldiers. The Market was the largest in the country, immense to say the least. There were teams of fursons from other lands, the countryside, trading their goods, crafts, and stories. Roxas had not seen a land with such a diversity of species. In His homeland, the majority was either Hynine or Leonine. Seeing white-furred wolves and odd reptiles was something new to him. As his eyes darted back and forth at the new species, his ears would bend in the direction of interesting conversation. Words about the Land in The Frost was one of the common political themes. His nose caught exciting and enticing new scents that he never experienced before.
As the young hyena gazed upon the Imperial Palace of the Land of Abundant Wealth reflecting the suns golden rays with its gold dipped peaks, he realized how small he was in this new land. The palace walls seemed to go on as far as his eyes could see. The great gold and gilded gates decorated with a variety of gems and rare carvings was guarded by teams of guards. They had on armor Roxas had never seen before but had heard of in the stories from his elders. People walked freely through the gates and to the palace itself to have an audience with one of the King's Men.
Roxas wanted to meet with King Qidaffi in person. It was tradition in the Land of Far Sight to personally ask the lord of the land for their permission to stay in their territory. The young Hyena proudly walked through the Great Gates, hiding his fear of the foreign land.
What Roxas did not know was that he was being watched. One of the guards had an eye on his odd brown and tan spotted fur and spiky mane. He silently walked, with sword in paw, around the palace's 10-foot tall diamond and gold encrusted walls, keeping an eye out on Roxas.
The Coyote licked his lips as he saw Roxas' black and gold silk loincloth. Of the thousands of furs the guard had seen walking around the market, Roxas was the only one that caught his eye. The luster of his fur, his young yet angelic physique, he just couldn't look away. The guard licked his lips again as he stretched, flexing the lean muscles under his medium-length fur. His guiled sword, issued to him by King Qidaffi himself, was gripped firmly in his right paw. He wore his iron chest-plate, a plate hammered to look like chiseled abs. Below, he wore a cloth of heavy leather and the sheath to his blade. The coyote's eyes were fixated on the young hyena, watching the way his small tail swished as he walked, the way his ping-pong paddle shaped ears perked in the direction of interesting conversation nearby, and, above all, what he wore.
The guard paused in his paces. His head tilted to the side, the inquisitive guard observed the strange hyena's garb. Black and gold silk, representing Life and Death. It was relatively short, compared to what typical boys his age in the Land of Abundant Wealth. He obviously wasn't from the area; a country pup, maybe twelve or thirteen years; some important pawn to some country-person Leader. He huffed.
As other, black dust covered peasant furs proceeded through the Great Gate of Qidaffi without hassle, Roxas was stopped by the guard.
"Who are you, young one?" The coyote guard asked, holding him back with one open paw.
"I am Azikiwe Roxas, Shaman Apprentice of Equeffi, and Son of Inkamafuma from the Land of Far Sight."
"You are very proud of your land and your family, are you not, boy?" The 'yote asked. Roxas nodded. "What do you request from our King, boy?" It was not typical for a guard to ask citizens about their reason for visiting the Palace, which was open to the public. Questioning was left to the people's advisors; low-level shamans whose main duty was to act as free public advisors, answering questions about love, work, and money in exchange for a small 'contribution' to the King.
"I would like to ask him for a small parcel of land and perhaps to purify his quarters in return."
The guard cracked a smile with his thin lips. "You honestly consider yourself powerful enough to purify an area?" Roxas nodded. "You've got courage, kid. But, you can't see the king. You can see one of the public advisors, but not the king."
"And why is that? A king not being open to his subjects has something to hide."
"Whoa, whoa, hold on, pup. Words like that can get you killed. Only a select few can approach the throne. You have to be somebody special." The coyote said.
Roxas thought for a moment, then with his back straight and chest out he proclaimed; "Tell your king that the Arch Shaman of The land of Far Sight is here to speak with him." The young hyena stood almost intrepidly, paws at his side.
The guard simply nodded. "My name is Rowan. I shall relay your message, but until then, you must wait out here." The coyote guard licked his lips before running back to the palace with his message.
With the keen eyes his people were known for, the young hyena watched the guard run through the gates. Now it was a waiting game.
Roxas waited in the hot sun for about an hour before Rowan came back, accompanied by two other guards.
"King Qidaffi would like to see you." The coyote said as the two guards suddenly put the young hyena into an iron muzzle and shackles, embellished with the kings diamond crest, and carried him to the palace.