{"sf1_id":7286,"sf2_id":"dmWJNlwe","title":"The Rogue","author":"Harper","words":971,"posted_at":"2005-10-01T16:46:00.000Z","tags":["M/M","Medieval","Pain","Werewolf"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/7286-the-rogue","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/dmWJNlwe","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=7286\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"","content":"Chapter One  \n  \n  \n  \nThey had just formed ranks. This was the battle  \nfor Herstmonceux castle, The War of The Roses. Sean  \nhad been hired in, one of about twenty Irish  \nmercenaries. Two days ago, he had defected from the  \nLancastrian side to the Yorkists. The Lancastrians  \nmight have had cannons, but the Yorkists paid better,  \nand had an advantage in troop numbers. Being a  \nCommander, he was given charge of two ranks of ten. He  \nadjusted his helmet and sword, and made sure the  \nchainmaille was on right. One final time, he ran over  \nthe plan of attack in his mind.  \n  \n\"Alright men, march up in two blocks behind Lady  \nJoan, and watch for archers. Beware of cannon fire.  \nGood luck. If you die fighting, which many of you  \nwill, you will have died an honourable death. May your  \nsouls find peace. Now, Let's kill these dirty  \nLancastrian bastards!\" Sean had called over his  \ntroops. The priest went and blessed them in Latin, and  \nbade them farewell. Sean drew his sword, and shouted  \nthe order to advance. Lady Joan said her piece, and  \nmade herself scarce. Arrows rained down around them,  \nsome firey. Occasionally, he would hear the sound of  \none of his men be struck down by an arrow, but he kept  \nmarching, leaving the dead and wounded where they  \nfell. The enemy rank hard formed into a block, so Sean  \nordered that his companies form a wedge, and then  \ncharge the Lancastrian block. Sean was a skirmisher,  \npicking off stragglers. He went in, fll and hard,  \nhewing an enemy in half, diagonally across his body,  \nblood glutting upon him. The blood steamed upon the  \nst! eel of his blade, and he licked at the blood that  \nhad landed on his face. Then, out of no-where an arrow  \npierced his chainmaille, and went straight into his  \nshoulder. He could tell it was tainted with poison, he  \ncould feel it enter his blood. He fought on  \nregardless, until he got too sloppy from the poison,  \nand misjudged an attack, and took the brunt of a  \nhammer blow on his helm. It knocked him for six, and  \nleft him out cold, and bleeding.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; He had fallen at the edge of the forest upon the  \nhill. A stranger noticed him, and recognizing his  \nlivery as that of the king he served, he took this  \nSean's injured body, and removed the arrow and applied  \na poultice to the wound. It slowly stopped bleeding.  \nSean weighed close to 250 lbs with his armour on, and  \nregardless, this stranger wanted to see him safe. Sean  \ndrifted in and out of consciousness, reality tisted  \nand turned on it's head from the poison on the arrow.  \nHe carried Sean's body in his arms to the medic tent,  \nand set him down inside, casting the priest one stony  \nglance before exiting the tent. The poison was in his  \nbrain, causing him great nightmares. He recalled the  \nhorror of the battle, twisted and made more  \nfrightening by the poison. Then, his memories went  \nback to his childhood. He remembers his mother  \nabandoning him in a forest back home. He was about six  \nat the time. He followed his mother back to the clan's  \ncamp. He stayed in the cover of the brush and  \nundergrowth, only to watch the cheiftan, his father  \nstab his mother through the heart with a simple silver  \nblade. He learned later in life that his mother had  \nbeen bitten by a werewolf while she was pregnant with  \nhim. Eleven years later, he killed his father with the  \nsilver blade. He kept that blade on him at all times  \nsince his revenge. He kept his lycanthropy a secret,  \nhaving seen with his young eyes what it had cost his  \nmother. He had discovered his ability to change when  \nhe was about thirteen, and he had lived rough for most  \nof his life, only joining a clan when he was twenty.  \nThe terror of those nights when he slept in open  \nground, prey for the wild beasts. He was taken in by a  \npack of wolves, and he only discovered why when he  \ndiscovered that he could change.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; He snapped awake, his hand instinctively going for  \nhis silver dagger, and when he realised he was in a  \ntent, he looked around to see wounded soldiers around  \nhim. His shoulder throbbed like fuck, he reckoned it  \nwas infected. A weedy, shrivelled voice startled him,  \nit was the priest. The priest told him of the rogue  \nthat had saved him. Told him he was one of the lucky  \nfew of his company of Yorkists to survive the first  \ncharge. He took some tea from the priest, it was  \ndisgusting, but he drank it, rather than be rude. The  \npriest was distracted with another soldier, so Sean  \ntook that opportunity to talk to his saviour. He got  \nabout as far as the tent opening, which wasn't far,  \nmaybe 15 feet, and managed to call out to the rogue  \nbefore collapsing in pain. Before he knew it, the  \nrogue was at his side easing the pain in his shoulder  \nwith some kind of potion.  \n  \nThey were accosted by two guards, one armed with a  \nspear who was threatening the rogue. Sean saw the  \nferal shine in his saviours eyes, and knew he had to  \ntalk to him. The guards, however, had a different  \nidea. One of them presumed him a spy, and went at him  \nwith the spear, the stranger sidestepped, and snapped  \nthe spear, cast Sean one last look, and made for the  \ndarkness beyond the light of the fire. \"No....come  \nback.....\" Sean said resignedly, and, looking at the  \ndarkness, he thought he had seen the feral shine from  \nthe rogue's eyes. The guards dragged him back to the  \ntent and put him to bed. He slept like the dead.  \n  \n  \n\n"}