FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In every generation, there are Heroes; ones that change the shape of Albion with their acts, from simple good deeds, to the darkest of sacrifices. These Heroes soon came to be feared, hated, and eventually killed until none were left. Nobody remembers the night that the guild burned, and was soon buried over after centuries of abandonment and neglect.

There was one, though, who with a wish so innocent, uncovered the Heroes Guild again, rising in strength, skill and will, and reminding citizens of what Heroes stood for; he soon came to be known as The Hero of Bowerstone, and shaped the world in the purest way he saw fit alongside a Pirate, a Monk, and a Will-User. Through all hardships, the death of his sister, the deaths of innocents on his hands, he endured, and carried on to end the plans of one individual; Lucien Fairfax.

No one remembers if he did so out of revenge, or to protect the world; he brought back millions that were forced to do Lucien's bidding, though he had left The Spire in tact for someone to spend the remainder of her life in...an odd ending indeed...

Though there is another Hero, who has yet to be known by Albion.

Two years pass since the end of Lucien Fairfax...now a Hero's Tale begins again...

Kalm-Fox's Journal: December 5th.

Brightwood; the centre of all things good and bad, the way between BanditCoast and BowerLake. I stepped out of the large barn slowly, hauling behind me a small belt, with a medium sized crossbow attached to it that scraped along the frosted grass. Now Giles' Farm wasn't exactly the best place to be brought up in, what with it being in the dead centre of constant fights between Guards, Bandits, along with Hobbes, and even Balverines who decided to get caught in the middle.

I apologise for a lack of introduction; my name is Kalm-Fox, sixteen years old; not a very constructive name, but it says pretty much everything to know about my character. The 'K' wasn't there by mistake; I decided to put it there for creativity. I was also a White-Fox, with the only different colour being a small black blotch on my fur; even snow had more colour than me, and that hardly made much sense at all.

Giles' Farm was my home -well, as home as it could be; I worked there; not as a farmer, really, but a...well, a guard. Most 'proper' guards were patrolling everywhere but the farm, telling everyone to have a nice day, and not doing a damn thing but walking about aimlessly. That was why I always carried my crossbow with me (made from an oak tree that looked suspiciously like a wizard, provoking people to cut it down in case Heroes came along to 'investigate'), along with a sharpened knife just in case anyone broke through my shots, which they rarely did.

The Hero of Bowerstone had once come to this farm, exiting with a new weapon that was sealed away underneath it all; that was when I first saw a Hero. The Hero was a majestic, but weather-worn figure, with armour that could hold together even from Balverine claws, and a weapon that could pierce their flesh. I couldn't remember much about him, only that he had traits similar to a Border-Collie, only with blonde fur instead of the usual black and white. I also remember him taking a long, hard look at me; back then, I still acted as a guard, still wearing my crossbow and knife. He let out a short laugh, not of mockery, but something else...

From that day on, I could only aspire to be as great as him, but less of a legend; there was something about being well-known that unsettled me. Either way, I was still inspired; I even saved up the money I earned to buy some proper clothes from a travelling merchant, though it had to be tightened quite a bit to fit my...slender build, which counted for something never-the-less. Now I had a full set of Ranger Clothes, with leather tough enough to hold against a sword, yet not as strong as The Hero's armour.

Anyways, on with what I was saying; I let out a long sigh, tapping my shoes on the thin but soft snow that covered the grass. Luckily enough, the barn was stacked with plenty of hay, the cold was kept out, and the hay was clean and easy to shake off, so it only took me a few seconds to wake up and put on my Ranger Clothes, even if I was still half asleep. As I said, life on a farm didn't really suit me, but I didn't have much of a choice in the matter; I didn't have the money to leave, and even if I did, that'd just leave the guards, with their 'have a nice days' and 'be careful, won't you?".

I looked around with half closed eyes, noticing the familiar farmhouse right next to the barn behind me, along with around a dozen farmers wandering around almost aimlessly, from Great-Danes to Border-Collies to Bulldogs. They were all dressed in the same way; long-brimmed straw hats, suspended jeans, and occasionally they wore shirts, which were practically just patched up pieces of cloth that they just found lying about; I even heard a few of them talking over where they found their pieces, and how it determined what kinds of jobs they do around the farm.

I already told you about how this place was called Giles' Farm, but I haven't told you the story behind it all; it's pretty simple anyway. A notorious guard by the name of Giles finally retires and sets up a family, his wife is killed by bandits, a Hero sorts it all out, and the place eventually becomes a large farm; then a few years later, Giles and his son move to Bowerstone, and leave the farm to some other poor sod. This 'poor sod' was known as Darren, and was still the owner to this day; so far, I reckon he's barely in his fifties.

I let out another short sigh and turned my body all the way around to meet the farmhouse, walking up towards it, but not quite going inside. Instead, I strode along one side until I met the corner, which I twisted around to reveal a long river a few meters below; luckily, there were a few wooden steps that lead down to the shore, and I wasted no time in jumping down and taking off my clothes instantly. I set my body in the river quickly, realising that it was just as cold as the snowy grass on the shore.

"JACK OF BLADES! THAT'S COLD!" I cursed into the open air, suddenly breaking into a pause to see if anyone had heard me; luckily, no one had done just that, and I was left to myself again, cupping the ice-water in my hands and rubbing my face and neck with it, all the while breathing heavily.

Finally, I was all done, by which time my fur was standing on all ends, though I was quickly able to dry off and put on my Ranger Clothes before the tips of my fingers would fall off; though the water felt a little warmer today, by which I meant it was just a little less freezing. I ignored it and looked up into the sky, almost scowling at the dim, grey clouds that were trying to look like things, and were just falling into each other like dancers who have to make up the music in their heads.

I slung my belt across my right shoulder, with the other end sitting on my left side, and my crossbow neatly tucked on my back; my hood was drawn over, with a black, wide but oddly short cape hanging over my back to hide my crossbow. The cold water had already woken me up, and I was ready for work, as usual. Sometimes I wondered what the world would be like if I wasn't here, but somewhere else; maybe Samarkand...

I immediately ran back up the wooden planks, or 'steps' as the farmers call them, and quickly turned the corner again, almost sneaking into the farmhouse, with my thoughts barely able to break through all the loud talking and laughing from the farmers that were packed inside the whitewashed room. The long wooden tables were pushed to all sides, revealing a small makeshift tavern at the far end; the talking almost seemed to stop entirely once I walked in slowly, making myself visible to everyone, especially the Collie barman, who was already leaning down to search for something.

"So...umm." The barman stammered nervously, trying to contain it whilst I rested my left arm on the wooden counter and looking at the stained glass windows to my right, in obvious need of repair. "So what would you like today then, Kalm?"

"Just one cup of tea, please." I said in my soft and light voice, sensing that he was starting to ease up for once; "And maybe a flask of water so I won't have to come back here and annoy you all the time."

"You ain't annoying me much, sir." He said, aware that he was much older than me, but still acting nervous around me. "Though, if it isn't too much trouble, could you keep the bandits a little further away than yesterday, if you could, of course...umm, err."

I let out an extremely quiet sigh; I wasn't even sure if I had actually sighed at all. The barman was always the same when we met eye-to-eye; once he started with the 'umm', he would go to 'err', and go in the same kind of rhythm whenever he got nervous. Perhaps it was the crossbow, or the black clothes I wore; maybe I shouldn't wear them until after getting my provisions for the day...

"They were really edgy that time." I moaned childishly, trying to give him the sense that he was the boss of the conversation; "I guess with it being winter, they're very determined to find some shelter or wrap up warm; which reminds me, if a clothes trader should pass by, tell them I need to buy something warmer off of them; Ranger Clothes just don't do the trick anymore."

"-Are you annoying our barman again, Little-Fox?" A voice asked to my left; I didn't turn around at all, but almost froze in position, pretending I wasn't here. I told you about Darren, the Collie and farm owner? Well, he was right behind me, most likely at the door leading up to his bedroom.

After making my guesses, I turned around slowly, crossing my fingers for good luck; and I was right! I clenched my left hand into a fist and did a small victory-arm-pump, noticing that Darren was exactly where I had predicted him to be; his eyes had turned to slits, and he had managed a playful scowl at me, though I always knew that he could never be properly angry at me, which was a good thing, considering how often we 'playfully argued'.

"I'm not 'annoying' him, as such." I replied, taking the flask of water and tucking it into a rather large pocket that I had stitched onto my Ranger-Coat, just before taking the tall but thin mug of tea. "We're having a nice talk, in fact. I don't suppose you want to join in?"

"I think we all have work to do." Darren said, marking me out of all of us. "I recommend you head out as soon as you can; by Avo, if I see another bandit take a step into our farm..."

I was going to rise up and call back 'Avo doesn't exist' just before he walked back up into his room, but I didn't really see the point. Darren was arrogant in the way that he firmly believes what he was raised to believe, even though Avo and Skorm were just made-up Gods that were created by a travelling-trader, and they were exposed decades before his parents was even born! I even purchased a book from a travelling trader to prove it to him, though he always responded in saying 'It was the travelling trader's enemy's lad, come to sway the public's beliefaging', or something around those lines.

I nodded my thanks to the barman, who nodded in turn as I backed away to the door and turned around, breaking into a light jog out into the open air. Incidentally, the farm was actually based on a rather smooth hill, which was hardly suitable for farming; never-the-less, it didn't stop Giles from setting up here, and even laying down two separate rectangles of land, with a single path running between them, which all lay out in front of the barn and farmhouse. It was no wonder that bandits had kept their distance; crops were the perfect place for people to hide in and turn into a trap.

I avoided the path in the middle, and instead headed to the far left, making out a small path leading up another hill amongst all the snow. The only thing that actually indicated it was a large stick and a torn up piece of cloth which made up a makeshift flag, impaled into the soft earth on the left side of the path; I probably should have mentioned that Brightwood wasn't the evenest of places.

I pulled out my crossbow quickly, and hid my knife on the left side of my black trousers whilst pulling out a single bolt from my right. My feet was so used to the messy and jagged path that I was able to multitask with hardly any trouble, and by the time I was back on flat land, and meters above the farm, my crossbow was already loaded, and was aimed straight in front of me from the hip.

"Well then..." I muttered to myself, feeling a single drop of snow fall onto my nose, telling me that it was about to snow again. I pulled up the collar of my coat, which was actually just a piece of cloth to cover my mouth; it came with the coat, so I figured 'why not?'

I was just about to continue on walking up to my usual spot, just near the top of the ridge that overlooked the farm; but something felt wrong. It was the very wrong king of wrong, as if someone was watching you, and they knew that you knew where they were, but they kept on watching anyway; that kind of wrong. After five more seconds of silence and listening out, it had hit me! I noticed a snow-covered sign on the wall of earth to my left, along with a few worn red crosses littered around the area; It was the home of...Him...

"Yae Cannae hit meee! Ye blasted farm-boy!" I heard a voice shout from the air, almost echoing through it; I let out a sigh and rubbed my face with my spare hand. I was in the territory of a Gargoyle; and not just any Gargoyle, but one that I had experienced since my childhood. I called him Derek...

"One day I'll find you, Derek." I said in a monotone voice, breaking into a slight smirk whilst circling around, looking for glowing eyes or grey stone; unfortunately, I couldn't find either, and I had finally stopped out of dizziness.

"Aye, yae will, lad." Derek laughed, not telling me where he was at all, since his voice could be heard from all directions. "Maybe ye'll become king! Or the farm-owner, or a God-Damn God!!! Hahahahaha-"

His laugh was cut short by something I couldn't quite hear over Derek's laughing, but loud enough for me to recognise that it was there; after a few seconds of awkward silence, I finally heard the noise again. It sounded like a mixture of screaming and begging, along with cruel laughter and boastful chatter; I didn't have to guess to realise what was causing the sounds. It was time for work, yet again.

"Yee'd better get going, lad." The Gargoyle said lowly; I nodded in agreement into the air, still not sure where he was, and ran onwards, up the ridge to my usual point. As I carried on, though, I heard the Gargoyle laugh and shout back to me one more time.

"BE CAREFUL NOT TAE TRIP ON YOUR OWN CROSSBOW!!!"