FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Author's Note

As a general disclaimer this chapter contains heavy violence, cursing, and other stuff I am forgetting to mention.

Definitley lots of action in this scene. At least compared to last chapter there is. A lot more dialogue as well. There is also a severe lack of any furry action until the last scene, so keep that in mind when reading. Luckily, next chapter will focus back onto Breeze, which if you have read chapter 2 (If you haven't... just go do that now...) you know that means there will be some more furry "action". Being said this chapter is actually very important as it introduces two very major characters and a lot of hints toward major plot points. So if you are just here for the furry smut this chapter is not for you. However, if you are interested in the actual plot then obviously read on.

Now I present chapter 3 in it's full glory. Hope you enjoy it! In the meantime I will be busting my butt to get chapter 4 out to you guys Monday, so you can expect that.

P.S. Technically it's Friday...

---

Trouble on the High Seas

The large swell that bumped into the "Flying Dragon" caused Fyren to fall over and knock his head against the opposite side of the wooden crate. Slowly waking up, the human rubbed his now sore head.

"Son of a sow..." Fyren Gosbeck groaned, sitting up as much as he could in the crate. As Fyren felt the top of the crate against his head, he thanked whatever gods that were out there that the merchant ship had sloppy shipment security.

Fyren sighed, "What was I thinking...?" Cassandra Black's energetic voice rang through his head like an annoying gnat, There's a huge reward if you get the plans. Plus you'd be recognized as one of the most daring... efficient thieves in the business! Fyren silently cursed her persuasiveness. Because of her he was sitting in a hot crate on a nauseating ship in the middle of the Great Sea.

"I can't even tell what time it is." Fyren whined as he pondered his next move. Stay in this crate and probably die of asphyxiation or sneak out and brave the steel of some clumsy mercenary? Fyren laughed at the obviousness of the answer. Checking his short sword angled awkwardly in front of him, Fyren slowly put both his hands on the roof of the crate and gently pushed upwards. Thankfully, the top panel of the crate lifted up smoothly. Fyren grimly thought of what would have happened had he been trapped in that box.

Placing the wood panel carefully onto another crate beside his, Fyren grabbed his sword and put one foot out waiting for his eyesight to adjust to the darkness. The only light in the whole cargo hold was the one lantern hanging by the staircase. Good, unguarded, Fyren smirked to himself, thankful that his timing was going so well already.

"That's as good a sign as any." Fyren quietly whispered to himself as he fully pulled himself out of the crate. Shaking his head to relieve himself of the sweat that had built up around his medium length brown hair, Fyren grimaced at his impulsiveness. He had forgotten to pack a sheath for his weapon. Then again, it's not like that has stopped me before, Fyren recalled optimistically. Finally, when he could see clearly enough through the blackness, Fyren noticed there were two routes he could take. One was a hallway that led to... somewhere. The other was the staircase, which Fyren assumed led to the deck.

"Huh." Fyren crossed his arms in though, propping his short sword up against his leg.

"The captain's room would probably be on the stern...," Fyren rubbed his face in embarrassment, "I don't even know if the cargo hold is on the stern or bow." Fyren turned his head to the staircase.

"Well, my best bet is the deck then." Fyren tested his leather boots to gauge how much noise they made. Confident in his sneaking abilities, the young human darted to the pole where the lantern hung. Maybe I won't even have to use my sigil. Fyren left his cover from behind the pillar and took a step onto the staircase.

"...I took her by the hair and claimed her then and there." Fyren cursed and swiveled, stumbling back behind the pole. Fyren's blood started to pump faster as he heard steps echoing from up the staircase.

"I think you had too much rum... Just because were on a ship does not mean you should act like a pirate." A bellowing, drunken laugh signaled the closing in sailors. There are two. That means that if I try to take one out the other will just call for help. Gods, I really don't want to use my sigil here. The last thing I need is to be weakened. However, if I just use it to speed up my swing...

"Let's just get back to the room so we can get some sleep. The faster you sleep off this-" The skinnier man's sentence was cutoff as Fyren stepped around the pillar. Fyren focused his attention on his arching blade, activating his sigil. The blade speed up to a speed that was near inhuman, immediately slashing the stick man's unguarded throat creating a fountain of red.

"What the fuck?!" The larger man exclaimed louder than Fyren hoped he would. Fyren continued to channel his sigil, pushing his blade with the flow of the controlled air. As fast as his blade soared with the wind, the larger man was already drawing his blade out from its sheath. Crap, if we start fighting here more will come and I can only fight off so many! Shit, shit, shit, shit... As their blade's met the larger man started to open his mouth. Desperately, Fyren focused his attention on the man's head. Manipulating the air around his head, Fyren smashed the sailor's vulnerable head against the hard wood wall creating a simple, dull thud, effectively knocking him out. Fyren dropped his sword and grabbed the man before he hit the ground. Sighing in relief, Fyren let the body slid slowly down the stairs to his dead partner. Fyren noticed the pattern on the man's chainmail chest. The emblem on its center was that of the Tarsis military. Though this was supposed to be a merchant owned ship... Why would military uniforms be worn by the guards... Maybe to get past the port security easily, Fyren reasoned.

"Way, way too close." Fyren hoped that the man's loud curse went unheard as he started up the stairs, more cautious than before. Nearing the top, Fyren was met with a very dark, gray sky that allowed for no visibility. He stepped out of the stair pit, watching for anymore guards. Fyren let out a long breath.

"Let's keep things this way, please." Fyren commented before looking around to gain spatial awareness. Fyren noticed a railing above the stairs that seemed to lead to...

"So if that's the bow then..." Fyren swiveled so he was facing the opposite direction, "this must be the stern." Pleased with the information, Fyren looked up into the sky to gauge what time it was. Wait... what? The sky above Fyren was black as obsidian. Not a single star or bright moon added light to the blackness.

"Well, this just keeps getting better and better." Fyren complained. Ignoring the blackness that surrounded the ship, Fyren rushed to the nearest crate and took cover behind it. From his other sea expeditions, Fyren knew that there was at least one scout on top of the two crow nests and with lanterns on the railings of the ship; he had to keep himself out of their view by traversing the ship by hiding underneath the masts. In theory, if he was spotted by one of the scouts he could push him from the crow's nest with a gust of wind. However that would tire him immensely. Even the act of using his sigil back on the staircase caused him to start to feel drained. With almost seven years of practice, Fyren found his limit for using his sigil small. An image of him being able to steer the ship using a massive maelstrom of wind caused Fyren to feel a high level of giddiness. One day I'll get there... Although first... Fyren jumped over the crate and ran headlong at the first mast ... I'll have to steal these plans. Due to the lanterns swinging on the sides of the ship, the center was dark and shadowy allowing for Fyren to easily hide around it. His boots only made a slight thumping noise as he continued to run, brown locks partly obstructing his view.

A concealing darkness shrouded Fyren as he slid against the base of the mast. Even if the night didn't hide him the huge sail that flapped with the wind above him would. Fyren sidled against the silent deck until he faced the second mast.

"C'mon, only one more to go." Looking up at the crow's nest, Fyren saw the small light that illuminated it. A shadow of a tired sailor danced with the flickering flame. Good, now I'm certain the captain's in there.

As soon as he saw the scout turn his head away from his position, Fyren took off into the shady area between the masts. As silent as a hunting wild cat, Fyren snuck across the deck. Fyren looked on ahead and saw the lanterns hanging from an ornate door. The captain's quarters. Yes! Now I just need to get over there and-

Fyren's foot wedged itself inside a coil of rope that found itself perfectly in his path. As soon as he took his next step the thief realized his situation. By that time it was too late and the human had already started to fall. Shit! The feeling of weightlessness signaled to Fyren the inevitability of the situation. His feet had left the ground and he was now bringing his arms in front of himself to hopefully cover the fall. Maybe if I... With only seconds worth of time he knew he would never be able to get his hands in front of himself fast enough. Summoning the familiar feeling of his sigil, Fyren influenced the air below him to whip at his body, slowing his fall to a point where he was like a feather. Once his hands touched the wood of the deck he let the swirling winds disperse and his sigil deactivate. Slowly getting up, Fyren physically noticed the decline in his energy. Damn, that's three times already. I've got to be more careful. Fyren let out a short, quiet laugh, jogging the rest of the way to the second pole.

"Yeah, like that's going to happen." He scoffed. Making his way around the pole, just like the first one, Fyren was warmly rewarded with the sight of the illuminated captain's quarter's entrance. Before leaving the area around the mast, Fyren looked up at the sail. Pleased with the cover it provided the human stepped toward the decorative double doors.

As he neared its location, Fyren pulled one of the door handles gently; making sure no creaks alerted the scout to his presence. As a gap he could easily get through formed Fyren couldn't help but feel giddy. Things are finally starting to go my way, he thought positively. Leaving the eerily dark deck behind, Fyren made his way deeper into the carrack.

"Damn!" Fyren cursed, almost falling down the descending and probably impaling himself on his own sword. Carefully closing the door, Fyren was momentarily blinded by the light of the staircase. As he silently snuck down the short group of stairs, Fyren noted his failure earlier and made it a point to look out for anymore sailors. As he entered the room below the door, Fyren inspected his surroundings for any more surprises. Below the staircase was large lobby with two end tables on either side of said staircase. Like hell a merchant ship would have unnecessary shit like this, but a military ship is even farther from that. Something weird is going on...

Fyren shrugged, "However, no guards, which is always a good thing." The door directly in front of him was as ornamented as the previous ones. That has to be it. As he neared the door Fyren noticed the keyhole under the doorknob. Sighing, already knowing what the doors status was, Fyren tried to turn the knob to open the door. It didn't budge an inch. So that mean's he's probably in there. Just what I need. Setting his short sword against the adjacent wall, Fyren stuffed his hands into the satchel that hung on his leather chest. When he felt the thin leather case he smiled.

"Looks like Breaker may finally get to see some action tonight." Pulling the leather case out, Fyren immediately opened it to reveal a set of beautifully decorated lock picks. Already having analyzed the lock as a ward lock, Fyren pulled out his most successful tool, Breaker. Breaker was a steel skeleton key with gold marking's running down's its length. For Fyren, this was his savior. When he first stole it from a competitive thief in Pinnacle, Fyren was shocked to find out how useful it was when it got past the "unbreakable" locks of Seridel Prison. That's when Fyren dubbed it "Breaker". From there it saved him on many other occasions.

"Let's see how the 'Flying Dragon' holds up to you." Fyren wondered admirably, setting the rest of his tools down and getting on his knees in front of the lock. Alright, so let's see here... Fyren started by looking over the lock for any traps. However unlikely it would be, Fyren had seen weirder things in the past. Sure of his safety, Fyren brought Breaker up and inserted it into the gold keyhole. Once the key stopped moving the thief turned the skeleton key and waited for the slight click. As if urging on Breaker, Fyren silently urged the click to come as he continued to turn it. Suddenly the key stopped in place and the faintest click sounded through the silence.

"Amazing," Fyren took Breaker out of the keyhole and slipped it back into the leather case, "That's why you're called Breaker." The young man stood back up and slid the leather case back into his chest satchel.

"And now for the grand finale..." Fyren shook his head before continuing to open the door. I really should stop talking to myself.

The room that was laid out before him was what he expected to find in a captain's study. A desk with a comfortable looking chair behind it was the focal point of the room with two bookcases bordering it. Along the walls were paintings and maps of the world. More suspicious was the shield that hung above the desk and window. A Tarsis military emblem marked its origins. Fyren also noted the room that shot off from the main study, which he assumed was the bedroom. If he's in there this could end badly, Fyren grimly thought. As he neared the threshold into the bedroom Fyren took a deep breath, preparing himself for a fight if he found the conscious captain. One... Two...

Fyren quickly pivoted around the corner and brought his sword up pointed at where he assumed the captain would be sleeping. Surprisingly the room was devoid of any other life form.

"Huh. Well that's... convenient." Fyren sighed at his over exaggeration and walked back into the main study, remembering why he was on the ship in the first place. Plans, escape, and then a nice mug of mead. Fyren stopped in the middle of the study, looking around himself.

"If I were weapon plans where would I be hiding...?" Fyren rubbed his barely perceptible stubble of a beard and pondered on the location of the weapon plans. When his eyes settled on a slight stack of papers on the desk he found his starting point. On top of the shiny, dark wood desk was a picture of a sideways cylinder with a hole in its center. The base was nailed down to the floor with a stack of black balls stacked near it. This must be it, though I haven't seen anything like this before... Fyren himself around the desk and picked up the large sheet of parchment. Satisfied with his prize, Fyren started to roll the plans up.

"Well that was easier than I thought it would be." Fyren observed.

The slight murmur of voices only occurred to him as the handle of the door clicked. A dark boot steeped through the now agape portal as the perceptible voice started.

"I could've sworn I locked this-" The rugged man that stood in the fully opened doorway simply stared at Fyren who was holding the folded up plans as another man followed up behind him. The first man wore a Tarsis military officer's uniform and had a rapier sheathed at his waist. His graying hair and beard gave away his older age. The man that wormed his way next to him wore an extravagant black robe with a red symbol cut in half by the openness of the front. The only recognizable detail about it was the dark red color. With a medium build, the man was tall with an angular face and large nose. However, his most striking feature was his flamboyant green eyes, which were only enhanced by his shapely eyebrows. Something about his green eyes conjured up a faint image, a memory, of a cell and large amounts of pain. Who is he? What is this damn aching feeling? Why does he... scare me...? As quick as the image came, it went, back into the miasmic cloud that was his mind. What followed was the most awkward seconds of Fyren's life as he stood there, secret weapon plans in hand, staring at the assumed captain and mysterious robed man. The un-comfortableness lasted for a few more grueling moments, both parties shocked at the scenario, until the robed man let out a clipped laugh.

"I wasn't aware you were keeping young pirates in your room Mr. Beckett," the man looked from Fyren to the plans he was holding, "And letting him in on the plans. I must say I did not believe you put so much trust in your... 'acquaintances'." The rugged man, Mr. Beckett, shot the robed man an incredulous look at the accusation. Fyren's mind raced thinking of his possible escape routes.

"Lord Julian, this is no time for jokes!" Captain Beckett turned to face Fyren.

"You! Who the hell are you? You're not with the crew." The captain questioned in a strong, deep voice, drawing his rapier. Fyren regained his composure as he decided he would try and distract them long enough to prepare for a fight and dispatch them. I know I've been a really shitty worshipper and I've sinned on many occasions, but just once let this go well.

"Me? I should be asking you the same thing. You know it's rude to barge in on someone." Fyren put both his hands on his hips in a chastising manner. The captain gasped at the statement.

"'Barge in'?! This is my damn room and those are my plans!" as the captain started to step toward Fyren, the robed man known as Lord Julian put up a hand, effectively stopping him.

"Even if we did barge in, I do think the act of stealing overshadows our transgression," Lord Julian smiled a wry grin that Fyren found himself using often, "Now, just give us back the plans and tell us who sent you. If you comply we will drop you off at the nearest port." The man stuck out a hand, obviously signaling for the plans. Fyren laughed at his offer. Does he think I'm stupid?

"Listen, we all know that's a bunch of horseshit. Why don't you let me go, with the plans, and I tell you who sent me? That way we all win." Lord Julian closed his eyes and gently shook his head. When he opened the green orbs again he faced the captain.

"Sea-rats. You can never reason with them." Before Fyren could parry the insult a heat enveloped, what felt like to him, the inside of his head. When the heat began, the young man instantly knew what it was. What?! He's a mage too- The searing pain only lasted for a moment before everything went black.

---

When Fyren returned to consciousness the initial feeling of heat leaving his waking body caused him to involuntarily shiver. As he groaned in discomfort, a familiar gruff voice started.

"You wanted to lead this interrogation, so lead it. The faster we get this over with the sooner I can get to sleep." Fyren opened his brown eyes. The captain's study that was laid out before him was familiar, as were the two men in front of him. The only thing different was the height. Dropping his head, Fyren realized he was tied to a chair, rope binding his legs and arms.

"Well then, let's begin." The robed man said, stepping directly in front of the bound human. The plans in his left hand jogged Fyren's memory of previous events. Oh, great. Captured by a mage in the middle of the Great Sea. This is why I'm not religious...

"So, thief, I'll ask you again. Who sent you?" Lord Julian asked, his voice level and monotone. Fyren contemplated simply giving him what he wanted. Was the reward worth possibly dying over? However, before he decided an idea crossed his mind.

"Most people buy me a drink before they tie me up." Fyren's remark caused Lord Julian to laugh.

"And I usually know a whore's name before they go rummaging through my stuff." If I can prolong him enough I can maybe slip my hands out of these ties, Fyren thought, smiling smugly at the robed man.

"But then where's the mystery?" the captain leaning against a low cabinet sighed at the banter. Lord Julian's grin persisted.

"As much as I love trading ideas of a good time with a sea-rat, you have some information I need and it would be in your best interest to tell me."

"And what do I get out of this 'deal'?" Lord Julian used the rolled up weapon plans to poke Fyren in the chest.

"You will walk free, without the schematics. After the trouble you have caused I believe that's more than fair." Fyren pondered on the repercussions of his choice. It was definitely a gamble. If this man told the truth then he would get away with his life. If he took his chances and stole back the plans then he could come out as the richest thief in Tarsis. If that failed though...

"What is this damn thing anyway? Seems everyone from Sorata to Tarsis wants it." Fyren asked while testing the strength of the ropes that bound him. To his disappointment they were taut as could be. There goes plan A... Lord Julian's smile dropped as he scrutinized him.

"It's a Soratan invention, actually," Captain Beckett shot the robed man a confused look, "A mixture of alchemy and engineering. It is a machine that can break down any barrier that is unlucky enough to stand in its way." Fyren nodded as everything fit into place. That was why the Black Talon's, his contractors, wanted it. Their war with the guard force in Trenning would be drastically turned in their favor with an experimental weapon in their hands. It also explained why the military was trying to secretly move it.

"So, that's why the Tarsis military is using a merchant ship. To avoid any suspicion," Fyren smirked, "It seems that plan didn't go very well." Pointing out the flaw in their plan caused Lord Julian's face to harden into a scowl for a moment before regaining its easygoing composure.

"I guess it has. However, I can correct this error if you tell me who sent you." As he finished the sentence, a threatening, faint heat started to surround Fyren. Damn, I almost forgot he is a mage. Even if I do get out of these bindings there is no way I could kill someone with his magical prowess. Although Fyren hated admitting defeat, the fact still stood that this Lord Julian was strong. Much stronger than Fyren was. Just from his sigil's touch Fyren could feel the heavy amount of power that radiated from him. How did he get to be so powerful? Groaning heavily Fyren plotted his next course of action.

"The Black Talon's. Got a contract from them to steal a set of weapon plans from the 'Flying Dragon' merchant ship."

"If they obtained something like that they would be able to unite the rebel factions under one banner of destruction. Probably start a coup." Captain Beckett mumbled, stroking his short, grey beard. Lord Julian turned to him.

"If they know about our surreptitious ventures in Sorata then what else could they have their hands on?" The captain shrugged.

"Not like it matters now. We know what their planning which means we can focus our attention on them." Captain Beckett reasoned, standing up from the cabinet.

"Even if they did try to spread the information on our engagements in the south, the High Council would hear about it." Lord Julian turned back to Fyren.

"I thank you for your cooperation," the man reached into his robe, "However, our past deal has changed." Lord Julian pulled out a silver dagger, spinning it around his hand with the tips of his fingers.

"Wait! What?!" Fyren exclaimed, struggling to break free of his bonds, but only rocking his chair in time with the ship. Godsdamnit! This is why I don't make deals with politicians! To Fyren's surprise Captain Beckett interjected.

"Lord Julian, we-"

"If we let him live with the information he currently possesses more rebellions could ignite. I'm sure he realizes how valuable this information could be to the right buyer." Fyren looked at the Captain pleadingly, but to his dismay he merely shrugged.

"You son of a Sow!" Fyren shouted, slowly realizing how futile his situation was.

"Flattery will get you-" the whole room shook terribly sending everyone tumbling to the floor. Fyren and he chair fell sideways.

"What the fuck?" Captain Beckett questioned, quickly getting off the wood floor. Lord Julian followed and dusted off his robes. Both of their heads turned toward the door as shouting emitted from behind it. As the shouts started, the door of the study flew open reveling a bleeding scout. That must be the one from the crow's nest, Fyren assumed, twisting his head so it was right side up.

"Captain!" the scout gasped, catching his breath. Captain Beckett walked up to him and inspected his wound.

"What in the Nine Hells is going on?"

"A ship," the sailor sputtered, "It came out of the fog as the men were starting their morning 'bouts." The captain cursed roughly.

"I knew this damned fog would be a problem." The captain spat out the word "fog" as if he had tasted sour milk.

"That's not all captain. On the ship were... creatures. Ones I've never seen before." Captain Beckett face contorted into one of confusion.

"Creatures? You're not making sense soldier! Are they attacking us?"

"Yes. They're on the ship now! Some of the men are trying to hold them off but... They're not natural, sir." Captain Beckett's stern expression calmed as he turned to Lord Julian.

"Did you know about these things, Lord Julian?" The Lord looked bored as he put the silver dagger back into his robes.

"No, however, I must say this does indeed complicate things." He explained, walking to the other end of the room. Captain Beckett did not look convinced, though he didn't persist with questions.

"Lord Julian, if my look-out is true then we will need your assistance. With your abilities we should be able to make short work of these invaders." Fyren continued to stay silent, not wanting to draw any more attention from the man that was about to kill him.

"As much as I would love to help I have an obligation to get these schematics to Pinnacle intact." Typical, Fyren thought.

"If you manage to get out of this alive, Captain Beckett, do make sure you get rid of this sea-rat and meet me in Pinnacle. You may just get promoted."

"You cowardly son of a bitch!" the captain cursed drawing his rapier in rage.

"Good bye Captain! I do hope to see you again." As the captain move toward Lord Julian's position the robed man burst into a brilliant purple flame.

"Gods!" the scout cried covering his eyes. When the persisting flames finally dispersed all that was left was a scorched bit of wood. The captain shouted a curse angrily and ground his teeth. Fyren let out a sigh of relief as his would be murderer was gone.

Annoyed at how long he had been tied up, Fyren yelled out, "If it's not too much trouble can someone fucking untie me?!" However, the scout and Captain Beckett ignored him.

"I need you to help the rest of the knights below deck to get ready. If the lord wants a show, we'll give him a show." The captain promised, clapping the scout on the back.

"Y-Yes captain!" With a salute he limped out of the room.

"Hey! Can I get-"

"You can handle a blade, right?" the captain asked interrupting Fyren. The young man narrowed his eyes.

"I guess. Why don't you go ask the men in the cargo hold?" Fyren morbidly joked.

"As of now you are being impressed as a sailor under my command." The captain proclaimed, lifting up Fyren's chair. Impressed?!

"You were just about to let that bastard gut me and now you're recruiting me?"

"We're being attacked by a ship full of unknown enemies. I need every able bodied man I can find." Fyren scowled at the captain. First I'm captured, then I'm almost killed, and now I'm being forced to fight monsters... I hate you Cassandra... Fyren issued a long, heavy sigh, dropping his head.

"It's not like I have much of a choice..." With that Captain Beckett took out a small, curved knife and cut the ties around his hands.

"If we get out of this I swear on my mother's grave that I will drop you off at the nearest port."

"The last time I was offered that I was almost killed." When both his hands were free, the captain handed Fyren his short sword.

"We'll take them at the deck. C'mon!" Captain Beckett ran off through the doorway. Fyren rubbed his sore wrists before following him out of the room.

---

When the door to the deck opened Fyren was assaulted by the smell of blood and the sounds of intense fighting. This wasn't the first time he had found himself on a battlefield. However, the rebellion at Cinidad was on land. The rocking of the carrack was evident as two lightly armored knights ran past him. Unfortunately, the now grey fog covered the whole deck, allowing for very minimal visibility. The mysterious creatures that the scout spoke of were clouded completely by the fog along with many of the knights. However, foreboding growls, hackles, and occasional whine pierced through the fog. Most of the sounds were coming from the starboard side, which Captain Beckett noticed.

"Stay with me," the captain continued to mumble, "Damn, there's not enough time to rally everyone." The rugged man, with rapier in hand, set off into the fog towards what Fyren assumed was the middle of the ship. Fyren readied his blade as he followed.

Jogging away from the ship's doors and deeper into the fog, Fyren felt a chill go up his spine as a shrieking howl trailed by cheering sounded to his left. What the hell are we fighting?

Revolving around the now visible mast, Fyren tried to keep an eye on the captain's outline through the fog. When he came to where he thought the captain would be, the young human's earlier question was answered.

In front of him was a creature standing, he would guess, around seven feet in the air, passing Fyren by a good two. The muzzle, dark fur, clawed paws, and twitching tail all screamed wolf, but Fyren knew this was no wolf. Fyren's wide eyes moved down the creatures arm to its cruel looking axe. However, Fyren had no time to admire its jagged edge as the monster howled ferociously at him.

"Um, good doggy?" Fyren said trying to calm the huge beast. This only seemed to make it even angrier as it snarled. The bright steel armor it wore would be tough to get through, but its head and legs were vulnerable. As he hatched a plan, Fyren made the first move. If I want to beat this thing I'm going to have to use my sigil. The wolf-monster moved at him with incredible speed. When the axe started to swing towards his head, Fyren let out a yelp and slid on his knees, activating his sigil as he slid below the hand axe. The human felt the wind propel him underneath the monster's legs. If I can get this right... The wind moved from his back to his feet as Fyren jumped into the air backward. The world turned for Fyren and the monster pivoted so it was facing the human once again. Except this time Fyren was no longer on the ground. The human's leather boots made contact with the monster's shoulders as he started to run his sword downward at the monster's head. Got you-

The wolf-like creature quickly grabbed Fyren's ankle and threw him towards the nearby mast. Shit! Fyren's body softly hit the wood beam, his sigil taking the blow for him. Landing on his feet, a sense of weariness crept over him as his leg shook. Damn... I'm getting too tired... I have to end this now and hope the other men are faring well against these things... The wolf roared and rushed at the human as Fyren readied his blade once again. Now if I can time this right... Fyren found himself once again observing the swinging hand axe at it came towards his head. However, this time he was going to block it. Bringing his short sword up at the last second, Fyren used his sigil not against his own sword, but the monsters weapon. The precise wind with the addition of his strength caused the axe to falter as it met with the short sword. Even with his sigil the wolf's power was immense. Godsdamn, this is going to suck. Focusing on his power over the wind, Fyren greatly increased the force it whipped against the axe. Although his vision started to blur, Fyren saw the axe fly out of the monster's hand and into the fog. The priceless look on the wolf's face as he brought his sword to point at it caused Fyren to smile lazily.

However, Fyren cocked his head slightly when a menacing grin replaced the astonished one. Why is he smiling? The young human's answer came as a hard, blunt object hit the back of his head.

"Son of a..." Fyren sputtered before all went black... again...