FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Listen now to the soft footfalls in the snow made by stealthy paws. Hear the tension of a bowstring being pulled back along with an arrow being nocked. A shot in the winter air flies swift and sure into the neck of a young buck deer and spills its red life's blood onto the pure snow. The archer sneaks up to the corpse not yet knowing if his shot was true, a well built wolf youth with fur of the darkest grey except on the front of the torso in which that fur was as white as the snow he walked upon. This youth called by his people by the name of Derek knelt by the body of the deer checking to see if it was actually dead. When he was suitably assured that the deer was truly dead and not stunned or unconscious, he hoisted the venison over his shoulders. Powerful wide shoulders supported with a burly torso were straining to carry the beast as they had not yet reached the full maturity of manhood. Yet the body of this boy barely 14 solar cycles of age was pleasing to the eyes, for it hinted at the physique that had yet to actually develop.

Even so the thighs of Derek were burning with fatigue when he finally reached the village where he was birthed. Axfell, so named by the tribe of Gaels, it was in honor of their talent in combat and with the axe. Many other peoples have been recorded for their skill in the sword and have been left in the dust of history. The Gaels however excelled with the weapon that could chop, hack, and slash with a force that no sword could aspire. Derek himself had been with the other males of the tribe, training to wield the sword and more importantly the axe. He dropped the deer off at the butcher's cabin and received some coins and his share of the meat. Carrying these two parcels he went to his own home found a bit apart from the rest of the village. This was so for the home of Derek also served as the forge of Axfell. The blacksmith was Derek's sire, Girvan an aging wolf but still sturdy in both body and mind. He was one of the few blacksmiths that could forge the great Sky Iron, metal that fell from the heaven in fiery cataclysms. Dark, easy to wield, yet virtually unbreakable only a select group were able to work this metal but that wasn't all for Girvan was most likely the one who had worked the most with Sky Iron in his entire career. Many a fortunate few who possessed ore of this metal gave it to Girvan to forge into weapons and armor of the highest quality. Now none came to Girvan to work this legendary material but there were still the daily plows and scythes to sharpen and reforge and the family was able to earn their bread. Derek's dam passed on his birth and thus had been raised alone by his father.

Girvan loved his son so in the manner of the Gaels. He tolerated few weaknesses and instructed his son in ways to overcome such disadvantages. The wolf had his son undergo more training, above and beyond what was normally given to the males of the village. Girvan not only was a great blacksmith but had spent a number of years being a warrior as well. He knew what to instill within a brash young wolf cub and how to do it. As a result Derek was a fighter to be feared, not only in the manner of weaponry but the low and dirty tactics of the street. Girvan knew that in war and combat, to survive and win were the most important in that order. Finally Girvan taught the blacksmithing art to his only child. "For a warrior, not only his skill and body are important but the care and maintenance of his weapons. That can mean for the warrior life or death." His father often said. Thus Derek was on his way to becoming a man of repute among his tribe.

Derek's father was tempering a replacement axe for one of the village's sentries. The youth looked on with envy, for his sire had made an axe especially for him, made completely out of the very best Sky Iron Girvan had gathered over the years. Yet Girvan declared that Derek was not yet enough of a man to wield such an axe and hid it telling his son where. It was a cunning set of tests, one of Girvan's trust in his son and another of Derek's responsibility. For if Derek had taken the axe from where it was buried he would have proven twofold that the wolf was not ready to take up this weapon. He did not hope he would wield it one day for Derek knew it would pass on to him. It did not do to worry about things that will happen in their own time so Derek set the packages of meat and coins upon the table and sat down waiting for his father to finish. The axe was dipped into water and let cool and the wolf turned to his son. "How was your hunt child?" Girvan said.

"Good, father I slew an entire buck, the butcher has paid me as agreed." Derek said. Girvan nodded and turned back to the axe. Derek went to the hearth fire with a stewpot quietly bubbling with its mixture of potatoes, turnips, and beans and stirred it so that it would not over boil. Only a few moments passed before screams and cries came from the rest of Axfell. Girvan made a face and cooled the axe yet again. He walked to the door that bordered their home and the outside world. The wolf with fur of fading gray looked out and his face darkened.

"Child stay hidden, this is not your fight." Girvan said though Derek made to argue for he was a son of the Gael tribe. Combat flowed through his veins. "Do not argue with your father, whatever happens do not show yourself, if the worse happens remember where I put the axe I forged for you." Derek swallowed for whatever was happening was truly serious. Girvan never mentioned their relationship as father and son. That he was using that title sent a surge of concern but it was quickly drowned out by duty and Derek did as his father told him.

More anguished cries that were suddenly silenced rang from outside and the footsteps of multiple people stomped outside the forge. Derek could view from his hiding place a bloated rabbit came in wearing expensive fabrics and bearing the black wings of Belhelmot the dark dragon god. Along with this epicurean leporidae were several soldiers but their blades bore not a single drop of blood to stain them. Also with the rabbit came various other richly robed bearers of black wings. Last was a single white fox dressed in much simpler clothing but yet still wearing the mark of Belhelmot. "I've heard that the famous forger of Sky Iron lived here?" The obese rabbit said. Girvan merely gave a single nod and the rabbit sneered "So this is the famed Girvan of the Right Arm, a mere blacksmith in the middle of the sticks." Derek fumed to see this obese city rabbit belittle Axfell where a single child was worth more than a thousand of that soft blob. "No matter" the rabbit waved his hand "we are here to seize all the Sky Iron that you possess, hand it over."

Girvan once known of the Right Arm shook his head once. "I possess no more Sky Iron, all that have come under my hands have passed on to others, you have wasted your time and the lives of my tribe you servant of Belhelmot." The obese rabbit came up to Derek's father and slapped him in the face. "Do not lie to me you muscle bound idiot, I will not believe that you would be fool enough not have a stash of Sky Iron in your possession. No smith can resist such strength, such power, such a valuable metal and leave it in others hands." The rabbit screamed out.

Derek burst out of his hiding place, there was no reason for him to let this rotund bunny strike and insult his father. However the wolf forgot about the guards that protected the foul rabbit and was swiftly knocked down and held immobile. Garvin leapt crying out "Son!" Yet he too was restrained by the guards. "What's this?" The rabbit said looking at Derek and seeing a resemblance "You of all people have a son?" The rabbit laughed a sickening sound and walked over to the forge taking the metal while giving an order to the guards. Derek found himself turned around and his breeches and undershorts stripped off him. Two hands spread his buttocks to present his hole to the disgusting invaders and to Derek's discomfort his father. The rabbit had taken the unfinished axe and in his hands began to melt it. "So you won't tell me where you stashed your Sky Iron heh?" The disgusting blob walked over to Derek the molten iron not burning the rabbit's hand. "Well you won't mind if I pour all this molten iron worked by your own hand into your son's hole." Derek hearing this began to thrash but was held strictly down. "Just think of the agony your son will go through as his father's craft sears his insides and burns the flesh. You'll get to hear his screams of anguish as he dies a slow and painful death like the dog he is, no? Watch as he pleads for death!" Girvan let out a scream as the rabbit began to tip his hand.

However the fox with his entire fur in the purest white held the rabbit's hand still. "Hold Lord Langen, Garvin speaks the truth, he does not own any more Sky Iron." The arctic fox held the rabbit's hand in a grip of stone, never yielding and allowing the iron to spill into Derek's insides. "What, Tomas should not his son suffer for his father's faults?" Tomas shook his head no, "Why should you harm him because of the truth?" Lord Langen sneered as the fox let go of the rabbit's hand. Langen turned and hurled the iron towards Garvin while speaking a language that Derek did not understand. Derek wrenched his head and saw to his horror the molten iron hit his father in the chest. The heated metal burned off the wolf's clothes but began to cover him in a cocoon of iron, just before Garvin was completely encased he looked towards his son and said his final words before his face was covered over "I love you, son"

Garvin was trapped within a prison of the very metal he worked. Lord Langen gave a cruel grin "Join your tribe; you lovers of war and iron, no chance of you ever bearing arms ever again. Your very weapons are now your jail." He turned towards Derek "Now tell the entire world that no one can resist the might of the Lords of Belhelmot." Derek's head was struck from behind and the entire world turned dark before his eyes.

Derek awoke hours later when the sun was just about to set. The very first sight was of Garvin still encased within iron. "Father!" Derek cried rushing over to touch the still statue which to his surprise still warm. The wolf did not know what sorcery was this or even if his father was still alive. Then the wolf remembering the disgusting lord's words and went to see what happened to Axfell. He fell down on his knees with horror. Every man, woman, child except for him had been covered over with metal. On their iron covered heads were looks of terror forever etched upon their faces. Derek screamed to the sky and beat the ground with his fists. He lay there for a while and when he rose again his eyes were sharp, he swore vengeance upon Lord Langen and all his ilk. Derek remembered what that fox Tomas said that had saved him. His father did not own any Sky Iron. That meant that the axe made for him could now finally be taken by Derek. The wolf stood up to collect it; this would only be the first step towards his vengeance. He walked into the northern forests leaving the hollow shell of Axfell behind with his footprints.