FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Templar awoke with a start, drenched in sweat as he panted. He looked around, tossing off the blankets covering his body and quickly standing up. He moved over to the mirror in his room and looked at himself. His eyes looked back, still blue and clear and when he looked down at his body, he saw he was alive and still breathing, not frozen in place before them. He'd been having the same nightmare for a while now, usually once a week or so for the past year. Ever since the mark of Corvos ended up being branded on his arm, marking him as the only Templar marked by two Gods; the only being in Griss as far as anyone was aware.

He looked down at his paw, looking at the ugly black patch. It was darker than the brown-black of his fur, going up to his wrist. From his wrist, it snaked up his arm to his elbow, tendrils of black. It almost looked corrupted in a way, but it was useful; his spell breaking abilities had never been stronger. But with the mark came the dreams and he had no idea why the dreams happened. He had asked around about any missing Magi or Templar at the time, but there were no records. Nor were there any records of any missing scrolls, something that would have been recorded before even the Templar's disappearance.

And he would have gladly let it go if it wasn't for the reoccurring nightmare.

With a sigh, he splashed water across his muzzle and looked outside the window of his quarters. The Arcane College was on the second tier and was the first above the shadow of the Wall, the large, fairly imposing wall that surrounded the spire-layout of Griss. The College occupied half of the tier, with the Templar's Village occupying the other half. Templars on active service, however, tended to stay within guest rooms within the College, and Alexander was no exception. Alexander Ravenwind, age nineteen and a dual-marked Templar was usually the odd man out both among the mages and his own Brothers.

The sun was just rising over the wall, making it roughly seven or so; so at least the nightmare decided to kick in late this time. The last time he suffered from it, he woke up in the middle of the night and was unable to get back to sleep for several hours after that; and by the time he had, he was on duty anyway. So he was thankful that he was able to make it through most of the night.

Still, he felt somewhat drained by the nightmare and wanted nothing more to fall back asleep. But duty called and it was time for him to head down to the main courtyard and receive his orders from his Commander. Most likely to watch over one class or another; by now he thought he knew more about magic than most of the under-eighteen students within the College. But perhaps he was to watch someone's trial; at least that was interesting.

The male moved toward the makeshift armour rack within his room, taking off the armour of his Order from where he had carefully placed it the night before. First, he grabbed the plain white tunic and brown pants he would normally wear, lacing up the latter before pulling the chainmail on over top of the tunic. It went down to his thigh, covering his chest and waist from any kind of physical damage dealt. There was also a coif, but it was only needed for outside duties, not within the College itself. After wrapping cloth around the pads of his footpaws, to keep them safe from glass or other dangers, he donned the tabard of his Order: the Red Sun of Emir upon a shield.

He grabbed the sword braced against his bed and the wrist crossbow beside it. Latching it underneath the arm of the tunic, the culpeo nodded his head in approval after looking in the mirror, making his way out into the courtyard that was off of his room. And when he got there, he found that the courtyard was already occupied by a woman demanding respect.

He quietly came to a stop against a pillar as the female spoke. It was the High Magi, the leader of the College. Pressing toward sixty, the female (another inconsistency with his dream, when he thought about it, since in the dream she was a he) was the most well-known mage in the city of Griss. She served two tours on the Wall, fighting the Undying with her control over elemental magicks.

She wasn't a species you'd expect either, being a fruit bat. But she had earned the respect of the Grandmaster of the Order and of her fellow Magi, winning a landslide vote to become the next High Magi. Now, she was teaching a new wave of students out in the courtyard, no doubt other Elementalists like her, considering the basics she was covering.

"Elementalism is the study and control of the forces of nature around you," the bat explained, levitating a rock in front of one of her pupils. The young wolf looked on amazed and the culpeo couldn't help but smile a little. Magic was a fascinating thing to him, too, once. "While you may not summon the elements, you can control those around you. A tiny flame can become a roaring fire," she concentrated and smiled, a smirk coming to her lip.

The Templar felt the tingle of magic and it was the only reason he was able to raise his paw in time, focusing his own unique form of 'magic' outward, stopping the rock inches from his muzzle. It was a risk showing, yes, but one that he knew well. No trained Templar would be taken by such a minor spell. "But alas, Templars can stop all of your magic." She added with a smile.

"Even yours?" Asked one of her students, to which the bat nodded.

"Even mine. The Grandmaster of their Order is the most powerful... shall we say anti-Mage in the Empire, and even I find it hard to cast the most basic of spells around him. Alexander here is a Sergeant within their Order, and even he can stop most of my spells," the bat's lip twitched in a brief grin, "Most."

"But we Templars are just flesh and blood," Alexander murmured, stepping forward, "it is why we have martial training on top of our spell breaking abilities; for it would be quite a shame to be able to stop the High Magi's abilities, only to die to a petty thief in the streets," the Culpeo bowed then before standing and saluting the Magi; thumping his fist to his chest. "Greetings to you, High Magi Jazmine; you wouldn't happen to know where Commander Bujko is, would you?" The bat shook her head almost instantly, making the culpeo sigh and rub the bridge of his muzzle. It wasn't the first time his Commander had failed to show up for duty.

Rumor had it that his Commander was only in the Order and the rank he was because a high-ranking Templar was his sister's husband. So that left the culpeo with little direction in which to go, unsure of what his duties were. He could go to the Grandmaster, but instead he decided to ask the bat in front of him, "Any tasks that require a Templar that you can think of, High Magi?" He asked.

After a brief pause, the bat nodded, "Actually, yes. You are the Raven-touched, right?" Corvos' symbol was a Raven, which was fitting; since the God's name meant raven. The culpeo raised his arm and peeled back the sleeve of his tunic, showing off the inky blackness of his forearm. "Hrm... Well, yes; there is a Mage's Trial today, and we could use a Templar of your abilities to sit in on it," at that, one of her students piped up.

"What is the Mage's Trial?" the student in question couldn't have been any older than six, another twelve or so years until his own trial. But every mage had to know what the trial was, for it was the single most important event of their young lives.

"The Trial is a coming of age task, faced by every natural-born Mage within the Empire. A week after turning eighteen, they are given a powerful drink that puts that mage into a coma," the High Magi paused for a moment, letting her students catch up before continuing, "Each Mage's test is different, and in many cases they can't remember it at all. Even I can't remember my Trial, only that I went to sleep and that I woke up hungrier than I'd been in months. Those that fail their Trial..." She trailed off then with a low sigh, something no mage liked to admit: what happened to the failures.

"They don't wake up. The Templars are then brought in to kill them, safely; for their magic is volatile and dangerous at that stage. Every student is given a solid week in which to complete their Trial, or in which to never wake up," the High Magi folded her arms, giving a brief shiver; no doubt having lost several friends and colleagues to the Trial. Even the most promising of mages aren't guaranteed to pass.

Still, it perked the Templar's interest, but he had to ask, "Why do you need another to sit in on it?"

The bat smiled, turning to face the Templar in full finally. Alexander had to resist the urge to avert his gaze, his very fur standing on end in the presence of such powerful magic. "Let us just say that you aren't the only uniquely marked being within this academy's walls," she murmured, cryptically. The Templar knew why instantly.

The Chaos Marked. Each mage was born with a mark: Elemental, Arcane, Blood, or Life. There was a fifth type of mage as well, Dragon bone magi, but they were different altogether. While the marked mages all balanced one another and had their limitations, the Chaos Marked was a unique thing in the world, for she had no such limitations. Some say the reason for it is that she was born of the blood of the ancient Dragons, magical beings that have long since been extinct since the time of Starke's last ancestor.

Others say that she was marked by the Sundered God, Ritum: to bring about another Sundering of Griss. Most say she is a confused young girl with far too much power, and not a one expect her to pass her trial. The Culpeo almost felt bad for her. Almost.

Templars weren't taught that mages were evil, just that even the most innocent can be dangerous. More so during their trial, where those selected to play overwatch duty are locked in for that solid week with the unconscious mage; they were given plenty to do and read, and ample supplies, but it was a safety precaution. The room was to remained locked and magically sealed so only a Templar could break it, just in case the mage lashes out during their trial.

At best, perhaps minor bruises and scrapes. At worst the room had to be purged, with one example being when a whole room had to be purged after a Blood Mage's trial killed the Templars watching over him. Even a Life Mage, who could literally do no harm, needed watchers; for their trial nearly leads to them killing themselves in most situations.

So it would make sense that the High Magi would want a larger group of Templar to watch over the one dubbed Chaos mark, and while it made Alexander uneasy, he wasn't about to shirk his duties. He nodded his head, "It would be an honor, ma'am," he murmured.

Jazmine explained where the trial would be before nodding her head, "Hetii's wisdom guide you."

"And may Emir's light show the way," the Templar responded in kind.

After receiving directions and leaving the High Magi to continue her lesson, he once more went into the College, past the different busy rooms packed with learning mages. One in every fifty children born is magic branded, and it is rumored that two in every remaining forty-nine would respond to a Dragonbone artifact.

The halls twisted and turned in seemingly random directions, but after living there for nearly all his life: as much a slave to its walls as the students were, the culpeo knew his way around better than he knew the streets outside. After what seemed a half-dozen random turns, he ended up in front of a nondescript room in the west wing of the College. Gathered outside of it were a small handful of Templar like he, all marked by their armour, and two Magi.

The older one of the pair was the teacher that much was clear; she had to be in her mid-thirties. The other was an unassuming female, a gazelle who looked fairly timid. While instinct had largely been bred out of predator species over the years, the fox felt a tightening in his throat at the timidity of the mage in front of him. He suppressed it fairly easily, but couldn't understand why such a fragile looking thing was so feared. Until she turned to look at him, that is.

It was her eyes - her eyes are what made him feel a surge of magic and fright as she looked up at him. They were a clear purple colour, but something within them made him want to... He didn't even know the emotion. It was somewhere between wanting to run and wanting to try and protect her, while the same time he felt the magic around her flare. And yet when she looked away from him, it all ended. Just like that - enough to make him think it was, perhaps, a figment of his imagination if not for the lingering tingle running down his spine.

"Templar Ravenwind, what are you doing here?" The oldest of the Templar, their Commander without a doubt, asked. He was clearly confused as to why the younger Templar was there.

Alexander saluted the older male respectfully, "The High Magi suggested I offer help with this one, Sir. Something about her being a high risk?" He couldn't see it when looking at her now, but a moment ago...

A moment ago he sure felt it. The older male, a puma, nodded his head in agreement with a snort, "Aye that she is. And we can use an extra pair of able paws to help us with her trial as well. We already are breaching our normal rules by bringing in a Life Mage with us, in case things get bumpy," other mages were usually kept away from the trials out of fear of interrupting, plus some mages just didn't do well around others. So to bring in another mage for the trial meant that this young female was high risk indeed.

After a brief exchange of names and tasks, the small group of six entered the room: two mages and four Templars. The moment they stepped inside, a rush of magic overcame the small ground, causing one of the younger Templars, a private, to stumble. He recovered with a blush, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. If that was the only thing that happened unexpectedly, it would be a good night.

The drink was made on-site, as it always was by the Commander of the Templar within the room. It was a secret passed down from Commander-to-Commander, to ensure that the common person doesn't try and drug a mage with it. Giving it to a mage after they pass their trial apparently has horrendous effects; though the last recorded incident was over sixty years ago.

When the drink was prepared, he gave it to the nervous looking gazelle before she looked to the woman at her side for support. The other mage was a feline, so obviously there was no relation, but the gazelle looked up to her almost as a daughter to a mother. 'Perhaps a teacher?' the culpeo thought.

Either way, with her encouragement, the Chaos Marked brought the pewter cup to her lips and drank deep of the foul-smelling mixture within. It smelled horrible to the Templar, and he could only imagine what it tasted like to the one drinking it.

Time passed. At first just a few minutes, but then an hour - and still the mage was awake. The Commander was obviously confused, pacing back and forth and muttering to himself about wanting the High Commander of the Order there in person for this one. Just before he could order the field around the room broken, the gazelle started to complain about feeling woozy. She vomited in a basket that was hastily brought over, and promptly collapsed onto her back, "Finally, we're getting somewhere," the Commander commented.

To say that watching a sleeping girl is tedious and boring would be an understatement, and after five hours had passed, three of the Templars had broken off to start a card game. The Commander and Alexander instead sat watch over the girl, however; the Life Mage in the room unable to use her spells, meaning she was there for support more than anything else. But she did dab the gazelle's brow, to wipe it of sweat, and whisper soothing words into her ear whenever she started to twist or shake from whatever 'dream' she was having.

It was at night, when the four picked watches, that something out of the ordinary happened. The first watch was between two of the younger Templar, so Alexander decided to get such much needed sleep. You'd be amazed how much sitting around and watching someone sleep takes out of you, and he was out like a light in moments, perhaps in part to the Life Mage's presence. Either way, he fell into a troubled sleep.

He woke up with a start, and instantly regretted standing up so quickly, since he stumbled back against the wall. Everything felt cold around him and his head was swimming. When he looked down, he saw his armour was gone. Heck, his clothing was gone, leaving him in nothing but a necklace with a dragon's tooth on the end of it. He also had the oily black marking on his forearm still, "Even in my nightmares you haunt me," he grumbled, looking around. But if he was sleeping, why was he aware?

He had heard of waking dreams before, certain; but this was vivid. If not for the lack of clothing, he might have thought he was awake. But not only was his clothing missing, but so too were all the other Templars and the Life Mage, but out of the six of them, one other still was there. The gazelle from earlier, who - like he, was naked. He averted his eyes to avoid looking at her, even as he felt the temptation. Perhaps more than your average male, being raised in the life he had; there were female Templars, yes, but you thought of them as your Brothers, not potential lovers.

He took a deep breath, calming his mind and focusing the swelling between his thighs to calm as well until he could turn to look at her. He avoided the curve of her breast and instead looked straight into her eyes, "Where am I?" Something about this seemed too real to be a dream.

The gazelle somehow hadn't noticed he was there, and she jumped and cast a fireball at him in frightened reaction. There was no sign of a flame around for which the spell could start, but the fire looked real nonetheless. Thankfully, his training kicked in and he easily 'shattered' it, making the spell weaken until it fluttered and died, a mere ember against his fur. It was warm, however, unlike the cold around him.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" The gazelle asked, before pausing, "Why am I here?" She added, looking around at the mimic work around the pair. It looked like the room she had fallen asleep in, but everything was blurred. Almost as if it was spinning, and yet neither of them were, "Wait, I remember you. Templar Ravenwind, right?" She asked.

He nodded his head, "One and the same. And you are," He blushed, realizing he didn't have a name. Chaos Marked seemed so... informal and Templar-like. "I don't know your name, actually."

"Elise. My name is Elise," the female murmured, looking up with a tilt of her head. "Where am I?" She asked, mirroring his question. Alexander shrugged and looked down at the 'mark' on his arm, the black splotch covering the back of his paw and his forearm, stopping just below the elbow. If it wasn't for the pitch, oily-black of it, it would look natural. He had a feeling that that was why he was in this girl's dreams... or coma. He shuddered at that.

What if she didn't wake up, would that mean he was stuck here, too? He didn't want to think about that, so he opted instead to answer her, "I think this is your trial," he paused then, frowning, "Have you tried... I don't know, pinching yourself to wake up or something?" It was a dumb suggestion, but it was the only thing he had to go off of.

She seemed to take it to heart, raising an arm and bringing her fingers together to pinch at the short fur and the skin beneath, making a soft bleat. But nothing changed, aside from her rubbing at her arm, "That didn't work." She looked at him then, really looked and blushed. She looked away then blushed again. "Why are we naked?"

"I would like to know that myself," he murmured, rubbing the back of his head as he looked around. Always an answer to every problem, it was the first rule taught to him by his trainer. He nearly laughed when he saw the answer, or what he assumed was. A single door - the one they entered before. All the windows were gone, but not that door.

"How about we try the door?" He suggested, pointing toward it. Where everything had a slightly grey tinted to it, the handle of the door was still the same brass colouration as before. The fox walked forward and tried to turn the handle... and nothing. He yanked and tugged and slammed and pulled; even slamming his shoulder against it, but it didn't budge an inch. He panted, moving backward a few steps. The only thing he accomplished out of it was a sore arm.

"Let me try?" The gazelle offered, Elise stepping forward and looking down at the brass handle of the door. She set her hand on it and slowly turned it... and the door swung forward. The culpeo didn't know if he should laugh or cry. He settled for shaking his head and following her through to the other side.

It really became a nightmare then, he decided; that weird kind of being naked in a room full of your classmates. Save, this time, it was the Council of Nobles that he was in the middle of, and both he and she were naked. But despite the fact they were, the nobles around them didn't seem to notice. How he knew where he was was beyond him as well, having never visited the top tier of the Spire before.

Everyone was shouting, trying to get attention and get their matter looked at before their neighbor. Things were in chaos, and the only thing that seemed to be calm was a regal looking field mouse sitting at the center of it all. Two things struck the culpeo at once: one, that a mouse could be regal, and two - he had a smirk on his lips. The thin tail curled around one of his legs as the mouse stood and suddenly, everyone quieted.

"Fellow nobles, I know you all worry about the massacres of the ground tier, but I assure you, my family is in the right. Our knights are even now purging the uprising against our fair Emperor, Starke rest his soul, and before dawn will lay waste to the pitiful garrison of the Wall. When order is restored to the ground tier, I will personally see to it that those who supported me in this endeavor are justly and greatly rewarded," the mouse then slowly sat down again, to a mixture of cheers and jeers. One of the loudest jeers was from a raccoon that stood up, pointing a finger at the mouse as his tail lashed behind him.

"And your knights then stand to occupy two-thirds of the city! If you only sent word to the ground tier, I'm sure they'd stand down!"

The room erupted into more yells after that, and at the far end of the room, another door suddenly appeared in what was once smooth stone. This time, the confused gazelle led the way, opening the door as easily as the last one.

The new room was dark, to the point of not being able to see. Thankfully, moments after trying to stumble around (and bumping against the equally naked gazelle), someone struck a match and lit a lantern, suddenly providing light. The culpeo blushed and apologized to his companion before turning his eyes. He couldn't make out who or what it was that was in the pitch-black tunnel, but they were carrying a weapon that radiated magic. "Starke's sword," the culpeo murmured, unsure of how he knew: just that he did.

The tunnel eventually let out into a room that was no doubt somewhere within the maze of the Spire, the heart of the city of Griss. The eternal sun made the room bright, and yet it was dim enough to let the culpeo know that this room? Wasn't easily accessible. "Do you have it?" the voice was familiar.

And as the mouse turned toward the one carrying the sword, the reason for that was obvious. It was the same noble from before, now being offered Starke's sword. "And with this, my agreement with Them is complete. With the Wall in my control and Starke's sword in my grasp, I will turn the city over to Them on the marrow."

The room froze again, and yet another door lit up. The gazelle shook her head, "What does any of this have to do with me?" She asked, looking at the culpeo. He didn't know what to offer her, so he shrugged and with a defeated sigh, she made her way toward the newly-formed door.

It opened onto the Wall this time, something every citizen of Griss had come to know, respect, and fear all at once. And upon the Wall stood the mouse from before, holding the sword at his hip. That sword practically screamed magic and it put the culpeo's fur on end just by looking at it. What is worse is it caused a dull throb in his blighted arm, making it numb and irritating. He flexed it, as if trying to wake up a sleeping muscle as the mouse spoke to the armoured men around him.

"The Undying will not attack us, so put down your swords," the men around him hesitated, looking to one another and then back at the mouse, a mixture of disbelief and confusion on their muzzles. He grinned and raised the sword in his paw, the sword of Starke.

"I have this, and with it - I will save the city. Your faith in my family, and in my brother, the newly crowned Emperor, is not misplaced," he turned then toward what the Culpeo could only describe as a horror show. He had seen the Undying, sure; even fought one or two as training, but never that many. Neatly arrayed in lines and with all sorts of wounds, the veritable army outside of the Wall had to be the largest he had ever seen.

And at the head of the army was something that gave him chills. The black robe with red markings from his dream: a Blood Render. Whoever the Templar was in his dream, he felt that under that hood was what the man had become. But the two to either side of him, standing taller were different entirely. And at the back of each Undying column was someone robed in black and red. The mouse left the wall, instead going for the single gate: making it the north side of the city.

He ordered the gates opened and stepped outside... and kneeled before the standing figures, holding the sword up to them. That scaled, grey arm from the dream reached down to pick it up, a deep rumbling, "Good," echoed in the field.

Then it raised the sword and cut through the mouse.

Alexander came to with a start, but he wasn't the only one. The gazelle on the bed yelled as she came to as well, and at least the culpeo had the pleasure of being dressed again. He was up in a moment and moved toward the feverish looking mage, her eyes unfocused. "I..." She shook her head and looked up at the culpeo, frowning for a moment before the realization hit her that he had actually been there.

But she didn't say a word, more so as the Commander and the Life Mage were on her in a moment, the first to make sure that all the wards were intact and the second to happily tell her she passed and was the fastest trial in recent history, too. But Elise wasn't paying attention, and rather was looking at the culpeo.

And as for the culpeo? He was trying to make sense of all he saw. Obviously, the brown mouse was working for the Blood Renders from his own dream, but that didn't make sense either. It was just a dream after all, right? Perhaps the mark on his arm had tainted her trial, but that didn't make any sense either.

What he did know was that the Emperor was still alive, Emperor Orender the Sixth, and that the wall was still standing. He felt safe in that knowledge. There was also no uprising in the lower districts, or otherwise he'd see the city burning himself from the second tier. The Templars might be a neutral party, their armies belonging only to Emir and not to the Emperor, but a part of him felt that he wouldn't be able to stay neutral in such a situation.

But it was all just a vision, right? Either his mark or her dream/coma running wild, creating what could only be seen as an elaborate fantasy; no one would be stupid enough to open the Wall to the Undying after all, more so since the rodent didn't seem to have any of the telltale signs of corruption that most sleeper agents of the Blood Renders had.

So why did he have the oddest feeling that the dream wasn't a dream, and that he and this mage were about to see a lot more of each other?